Until We Meet Again
by Just-an-Innocent-Bystander
Summary: The year is 1914. Europe is engaged in the first world war, and Annabeth Chase is one of the first female doctors helping to save the injured soldiers in the trenches. Then she meets Percy Jackson, a wounded hero, and love follows through a series of letters and a promise that they will one day meet again. (No mythological background). I do not own PJO or HoO.
1. Chapter 1

_Europe, 1914, is in a state of war…_

I stepped easily off of the chartered steamship that I had taken from Long Island, New York to Newhaven Harbour, England. The sharp, cold wind bit at my face, and my scarf fluttered before settling once more. I didn't have much, just one trunk half filled with clothes and the other half equipment. The date was November 5th, 1914, and 'The Great War' as it was being called was just getting started.

I lifted my skirts as I descended off of the port city's dock and allowed myself a brief look around. The buildings were packed tightly together, and height ranged from three to six stories each. It was nothing compared to the city of Manhattan, where buildings didn't survive unless they were ten levels or taller.

I didn't make a habit of traveling, but because of the war, the soldiers of Europe were going to need all the help they could get. I was a doctor, you see. Yes, one of the first registered female doctors in the world. Many people in America looked down upon me for being an educated woman trying to find work in a man's world. Practices of other physicians refused to hire me, even. But now, I wouldn't be denied a job. Not when doctors were in desperate need.

Trench warfare was not a trivial battle where stuffy men on horses with Calvary swords shouted orders to their inferiors. No, it was an 'all in this to die together' sort. A deadlier sort.

In a few short days, I would be back on a boat, this time headed directly for a hospital closer to the injured, in France. There was no saying when or if I would return. But I didn't have much to return to anyway. I deserted my family when I was seven, to get away from the abuse that plagued my childhood home, and was taken in by two men who ran a sort of 'camp' for children and teens. Theirs was a rough friendship, considering one (called Mr. D by the campers) did not want to be there at all. The other, however, was a man entitled Chiron. He was given his name after the Greek hero trainer, and the name was fitting. Chiron was the one who taught me to be a doctor, as he had been one himself. The one who gave me my papers proclaiming me a doctor. The one who taught me to shoot a rifle in case I was ever in trouble.

He was the true father figure in my life, and I was saddened to have left him in New York. Even knowing the risks of what I was volunteering to do in the war, he supported my decision, promising to write as soon as I arrived at my final destination: Boisleux-au-Mont, France. It was a Central Clearing Station set up by Canadian forces. It was there heavily wounded soldiers would be treated before being shipped off to a base hospital further away. The lesser injuries would be treated and then those men would be sent back. It was not a 'long stay' sort of place. And it would always be busy, which was why they needed a better staff at that location.

I had first gotten my high school education at a small private school near Camp. It was something I had to work hard for. Women weren't always expected to get a secondary education, so when I got the chance, I took it. Then I attended Chiron's classes at a small university. I was the only woman in the medical classes.

I took a deep breath and started down the street, walking carefully on the rain-drenched bricks of the sidewalk. I had memorized the address of the doctor and nurse call station, so all I had to do now was find it. The dreary lighting from the overcast sky made it difficult to read the numbers on the buildings. I had a hard time with reading sometimes. The letters seemed to switch and I couldn't make them out. Different languages were easier than others though. I should know, I could read and write in four different dialects. English, Greek, French, and Italian. I wished I could speak in others, like German and Russian, but my days of sitting and learning were over. There was work to be done.

Finally, I happened upon the dismal building. The mortar was crumbling around the brownish bricks, and the wooden steps up to the door were beginning to decompose because of the weather and too much use. It didn't matter though. I set down my heavy case and knocked briefly on the door. It was opened not five seconds later by a beautiful girl about my age. Her tan skin told me that she was not from here.

"Come in," She welcomed, stepping back so I could slip past into the building. We both sat on the bench inside the mudroom, and waited for our names to be called. It was standard procedure to have and interview to verify documents and credentials that allowed most women to practice nursing. Or to be a doctor, in my case. I immediately got out my folder from my trunk, and placed it safely on my lap.

"My name's Piper." The beautiful girl told me. "What's yours?"

"Annabeth Chase." I said, extending my hand to hers to shake it. She didn't say a last name, so I asked. "No surname?"

Piper's face flushed. She answered, "No."

I only nodded in reply, no questions further.

"I suppose you're here for a nursing position?" Piper made conversation. Her slight French accent threw me off at first, because her coloring was completely different than that of a natural French lady.

"Doctor, actually." I responded. I suppressed a smile. I was proud of myself.

Her face lit up, "Really?!"

"Yes." I replied.

She sighed, "I wish I could be a doctor!"

"Well, you're already a nurse, correct? It's only a few more years of schooling." I told her.

"I was barely allowed to go through with basic nursing," She confided. "My father fought me every step of the way."

"Your father must be very old fashioned in his ways." I said.

Her eyes widened, as if she wasn't supposed to say something. "You have no idea."

Piper's unease to tell me specifics made me uncomfortable and curious. But then again, I wasn't ready to release all of my secrets either. My family's heritage was nothing to be proud of. An absent mother, uncaring father, and a stepfamily cruel enough to forget about a seven-year-old daughter…I bit my tongue to stop the disliking emotions cross my face.

The door at the end of the hallway opened and admitted a blonde man with bright blue eyes. He was young. Younger than me, even, and I was only eighteen. He had to be sixteen, at most. He was too young to have enlisted, but from his countenance, he probably didn't want to.

The lady behind the door checked her clipboard, then called my name. I stood, leaving my trunk on the floor, and made my way towards the woman. Just as the blonde teenager reached the door the woman spoke again.

"Dr. Solace." She said and he turned. "Meet Dr. Chase. You two will be working together in a few days, so you'd better become friends."

I rolled my eyes and Solace gave me a smile. He seemed to be a cheery man, well, boy. He held out his hand, saying, "Will Solace."

"Annabeth Chase." I smiled back. It was nice to see a happy face in such dark times.

"A pleasure to meet you." He said, his English accent a stark contrast to mine. I replied, "Same to you."

"You're an American?"

"Is it obvious?" I asked, grinning.

"You're accent gives you away." He checked the time on his watch. "I must be going. I've made other arrangements that I must attend to."

I nodded, "Well it was very nice to meet you. I suppose I'll be seeing you in the field."

"Yes." Will agreed. "Good day."

He was out the door without another word. I thought about that phrase 'good day'. The circumstances being as they were, one could hardly say it was a 'good day'. Not when so many soldiers were out there fighting. That idiom which seemed so normal no longer was.

I turned and faced the strict looking woman who still stood in the doorway gripping her clipboard. I nodded politely and stepped into the large room, where a panel of four people sat waiting. I felt a surge of discomfort rush through me, as if these people were here to judge me. Two men and two women, not counting the lady who showed me in. (She took her place sitting down at a wooden desk, proceeding to take notes about Lord knows what. The others were seated on dainty, though well-worn, furniture, and a fire roared in fireplace along the back side of the wall.

"Have a seat, Dr. Chase." One man said. I followed his instruction and sat down in the only chair left available. He continued on to say, "My name is Andrew Williams, and this is my wife Gloria."

He acknowledged the woman beside him. She rolled her eyes, but they crinkled at the corners, telling me that she had lived a happy life, at least up until now. The other lady cut in.

"And I am Mrs. Sherringford. Giana Sherringford, to be precise." Her voice was distinctly proper, as if she looked down upon everyone. I didn't mind it, actually. I could relate to trying to make a place for yourself in a male dominated world.

She went on, "This is retired Dr. Albin Greenberg. He has agreed to verify all medical certifications, so would you please hand yours over to him."

I handed him the folder. Dr. Greenberg was clearly the oldest person in the room, and I was the youngest. I sincerely hoped he didn't have anything against qualified young women, otherwise we would have a problem. I watched as he carefully put down his pipe in the crystal ashtray and picked up an old-fashioned magnifying glass. I contained a smirk slightly. Dr. Greenberg reminded me all too well of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. I had read his mysteries since I was a child.

I returned my attention to the middle-aged man and women. They surely had questions for me. I just hoped I wouldn't have to go too detailed into my past to answer them.

Mrs. Sherringford began, "When and where were you born?"

"I was born July 12th, 1896, in Virginia, United States of America." I was sure to keep my answers short and concise, neither telling the more nor less than what they asked to know.

"And your parents, who are they?" Mr. Williams cut in. Mrs. Williams rolled her eyes at him again, smiling innocently at me.

"My father is Frederick Chase, he is a professor of American and Military History. He was born in Boston, Massachusetts, then moved to Virginia, and finally moved to San Francisco, California, which is where he is now." I told them, part of me hoping they would be satisfied. I knew they wouldn't be, however.

"And your mother?" Mrs. Sherringford questioned.

"I never knew my mother, ma'am." I replied.

"Did she die?" She asked bluntly, not caring if she came off as standoffish—which she did.

I answered, "Not to my knowledge. I was left on my father's doorstep when I was only a few weeks old."

Mrs. Sherringford turned her nose up at me, disgust written all over her features. "So you're an illegitimate child, are you?"

I gave her a pointed look. "I do not consider any person to be ' _illegitimate_ '. That word implies criminality, which I have never partaken in."

No one else was asking any questions now. It was evident that not many people would stand up to Giana Sherringford, but I would keep my ground. Some people just had to learn that the world is a forever changing place, and narrow-minded opinions only held back progress.

Dr. Greenberg interrupted the silence to everyone's relief.

"It says here in your papers that you moved to Long Island, New York when you were seven, which contradicts what you told us about your father's residence. Care to explain?" His tone was not rude or uncaring. Quite the opposite, in fact. He genuinely seemed to be concerned in a fatherly way.

So I told him, "I moved to a camp when I was seven, which is where I have lived since."

"What was the 'camp' called?" Mrs. Sherringford wondered aloud. She still wasn't pleased with me.

I confidently answered. "Camp Half-Blood."

"A fitting home for a dirty-blooded child." She said under her breath, but everyone heard her. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. I decided to make her more uncomfortable by telling her about my home, and about the amazing man who raised me.

"Despite what you may think, Mrs. Sherringford," I began. "I refuse to feel inferior just because of my unknown lineage. It is not where we come from that defines us, but what we make of ourselves.

"You will notice that I sustained perfect marks in all of my classes, and that my medical performance papers are more than adequate. The man who ran the camp—yes, he is a man—would stand for nothing less. You see, the world is changing, and if you are going to send away a qualified doctor who could help your wounded soldiers for the sake of your pride, then I will have to proclaim you to be one of the most selfish people on this planet." I finished my little tirade with a dignified look towards everyone in the room.

Mrs. Sherringford, growing ever the redder, started her own speech, "Why you little—"

But she was cut off by Dr. Greenberg. "Mrs. Sherringford! I think we have all had enough of your discriminations for one day. Our young men are out there fighting for us. If we deny them the medical treatment they need, who is there to argue that we, ourselves, are not treasonous? Dr. Chase proves a good point here, and she has my permission stamped on her papers already. Are there any objections?"

He was met with none. He had stunned her into silence.

Shuffling my papers back around, he gave me my folder back, saying, "The address of the provided lodging is in the papers. Your badge of identification will be given to you in two days hence, whereupon you will board a steamboat heading for Paris. Next is a train that you will take to your final destination. Good luck, Dr. Chase. Godspeed."

"Thank you, sir. May God help us all." I stood from my seat and exited, the adrenaline rush from the short interview wearing off immediately. I heaved a silent sigh as soon as I stepped into the mud room where Piper was still waiting. She looked tired, but was ready with her papers as her name was called.

"Piper McLean."

My eyes widened. No wonder she didn't want me to know her last name. Her father was one of the richest men in England. In the world, perhaps. Almost everyone in this country knew his name because of the propaganda being produced for the war effort. Not unlike America's Uncle Sam, her father must have been the face of the propaganda mission.

I glanced over to Piper, her face flushed because she knew that _I_ knew. Before entering into the meeting room, she said, "Annabeth? Can we just keep this to ourselves?"

"Of course," I replied. She and Will Solace were going to be my only two friends on the first day. Of course I could keep one measly detail safe. She entered the room and the door closed with a soft click. I collected my meager belongings and stepped outside once more. I pulled out the lodging address after I set my trunk on the street. After deciding my direction, I picked up my trunk, ready for the beginning of my next adventure, certain that this quest would hold more dangers and terrors than the last.


	2. Chapter 2

My hands gripped the railing of the steamboat as we sailed into the Port de Plaisance de l'Arsenal, Paris, France. It was an arsenal marina on the northern side of the river Seine. I had been on this ship for weeks as we navigated through the English Channel and the Seine, which twisted and turned its way through the French countryside. From what I could see from the map, I knew I didn't want to have to be the one steering the boat. All I wanted to do was get off it, quite frankly.

The misty rain falling didn't bother me. I'd dealt with worse coming from New York to England, where the sea had stormed almost every day except the last. It wasn't that I didn't like water travel. It was perfectly acceptable. However, I did prefer traveling over land more. There was less risk, even though it could take longer.

Someone coughed behind me and I jerked my head back so I could see who it was. Just Piper. I sighed in relief. I wasn't in the mood to talk to any more frivolous nurses. I didn't question their credentials, but they were excited about meeting and caring for so many men. I rolled my eyes at their blind innocence. This was war. It wasn't going to be what they were expecting.

And what was I expecting?

I expected to be removing limbs that had been struck by flying shrapnel. I expected digging in someone's chest cavity for a well-placed bullet and sewing them up once I got it out. I expected death. And lots of it.

"What are you thinking about?" Piper asked, coming to stand beside me and put her hands on the railing too. Piper was the only friend I had yet to make besides Will. And we hadn't seen him because women and men were required not to see each other. One of the obvious ground rules was that no doctors or nurses should be courting each other. There wouldn't be a problem with Will though. He was decidedly younger than all of the women on the ship.

I answered Piper, "I'm thinking that most of the women on this ship are going to run for home as soon as the first round of patients get in."

We snickered at the image. It was going to be a shock for them. I had been caring for bullet and stab wounds since I was fourteen. Camp was a place for all misfits, especially the ones who got in trouble. The streets aren't always safe for kids, so I would always help fix them up.

"I honestly wouldn't be surprised if most of them were doing this for the money." Piper proclaimed.

I nodded. The money was good. Not that either of us had a need for it. We'd had this conversation once before, and we'd both agreed on one thing: we were going to be doing this job until the war ended or we died.

"My father has enough money." Piper said.

"I wouldn't know about my father." I replied. "I received a letter a few months ago that he had remarried. They're already expecting a child as early as August."

"When was the last time you two talked?"

I shrugged. "I don't know…He knows where I've been living for most of my life, and I've received a handful of letters over the years. He asked me to come live with him a couple of times, but I have always declined. I wanted to further my education and not be in my father's shadow at some university. If they'd accept me, that is."

"No matter what I do I will be in my parent's shadows. I don't think that they even wanted me to begin with." Piper confided.

"What does your mother do?" I asked. She had already confirmed my theory of who her father was.

We were docking as Piper gave me her answer. "She is a clothing designer here. In Paris."

My eyebrows rose inquisitively and Piper rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She continued to say, "As soon as she had me, my parents separated and I was raised in an apartment in west Paris by a hired woman named Jane. She was always cross and cruel to me. I never have met my mother though."

"What's her name?"

"Aphrodite. I'm sure it was one she took just to seem more elegant and refined." Piper smiled sadly. "Anyway, as soon as I was sixteen I traveled to England and got an education in nursing, much to my father's dismay."

"Why would he be upset by that?" I wondered aloud.

"He has very old-fashioned plans for me. An arranged marriage, in fact, looms indefinitely at the end of this war." Her voice was bitter, and I didn't blame her in the least. "I had the choice of marrying before or after. So, of course, I chose after."

My face screwed up in disgust. "That's awful! It's the 20th century! You would think that men had started to learn that they cannot have absolute control over women."

"You're making that face again. You know, the one that portrays absolute repulsion at any male dominance." She laughed.

I scoffed, "I do not!"

We laughed together as the steamboat finished docking.

"I'm glad to have met you, Piper McLean." I told her.

"But of course, Dr. Chase. We were destined to be best friends!" She exclaimed, linking arms with me as we collected our trunks and made our way down the gangplank. Paris was an array of vibrant colors and noise. Everyone was going somewhere, not unlike Manhattan, which I was beginning to miss. There was urgency though. I could see the outlines of the shelled buildings. The Germans had started bombing this city in September. Because of that, people did their business quickly, then kept to the safety of the indoors.

I checked our tickets, "We're not supposed to board the train until a few hours. Suppose we could sit down and eat something?"

"I don't see why not." Piper acknowledged. "It may be the last well-prepared meal we get for a long time."

I smiled. Perhaps some time in this city could be fun. Piper stared at the street signs, reading, then said, "I think there is a café around the corner."

"Alright then." I followed her diligently through the crowded streets, sidestepping all sorts of things, like people, moving carts, and animals. As soon as we moved into the warm little café, the strong smell of coffee filled my lungs. There were some things you just couldn't go wrong on, and one of them was the smell of coffee.

Feeling better already, we ordered and sat down at a small table in the back corner. I shuffled my large trunk so that it was up against the dingy brick wall. I didn't mind that the place was unclean. It didn't matter, really.

Feeling the need to make conversation, I said, "So, what sort of equipment or instruments did you bring with you?"

Piper blushed. "I'm afraid not very much. I left in a hurry."

"Well, I'm sure they will provide most things, and we can always share what I've brought along." I promised. "I was hoping that you would like to be my personal nurse throughout the duration of our stay. Every doctor has one, and I just thought…"

I was rambling now. I hoped she would say yes. It would make things so much easier once we had arrived.

"Of course!" Piper exclaimed, a smile once again gracing her features. I sighed in relief. I didn't know what I was worried about. Of course we would work together.

Piper and I spent the remainder of our time talking about pointless things, our topic never venturing into any subject that wasn't polite. It was nice to not have to try and be nice to her. Our natural friendship just happened. Before long, we had to get moving again. The train ride would be about two days long, and I was hoping to sleep through most of it. A full night's rest in your own compartment was going to be luxury compared to the cramped boarding of the Central Clearing Station.

The train pulled away from the platform, heading directly to my new home: Boisleux-au-Mont. It was pronounced 'boy-lou-a-mon'. French names were always pronounced in a weird manner.

Suddenly someone knocked on my compartment door. I slid it open to see another girl. She was younger than me, with darker skin and curly cinnamon-brown hair. But her eyes where what caught me. They were gold. Not even dull in the slightest. It was very rare. I tilted my head as if to ask her why she had knocked.

"I have your uniforms, ma'am." Golden-eyes said. I nodded to her and took the two boxes out of her hands. It was heavy from the weight of so much clothing.

"Thank you, Miss—?" I asked, depositing the boxes on the floor of my compartment.

"Levesque." She provided.

I held out my hand, "Pleased to meet you. I am Doctor Annabeth Chase."

I loved the way 'doctor' sounded in front of my name. It was a dignified title. One that I would forever have now. I was proud, yes. And who wouldn't be?

"I know ma'am." Levesque told me. "Everyone does. You're one of the few female doctors working for the Entente Cordiale. Every other woman is a nurse."

I rose my eyebrows. I was already a bit well known, just for being an achieving woman. I wanted to earn that though. To prove myself even more. I shook myself out of my reverie, saying, "I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts there for a moment. What's your first name?"

"Hazel, ma'am." She replied and I smiled. It was a nice name for her. "I do small jobs for the British Red Cross. If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my shift."

I nodded and she moved on down the narrow train hallway. I shut the door to my compartment. Hazel Levesque seemed like a very sweet girl, but I could tell that there was something she was wary about; something she didn't want people knowing about her.

I sighed at the box of clothes. My uniforms. I didn't know what they were going to give me. Doctors wore different attire than nurses so that they could be seen easily among the mass of white-uniformed nurses. But they might not want to make a women's doctor uniform. Especially if there were only three of us.

I lifted off the lid of the bigger box of the two, fully expecting to see the stark white regalia of a nurse's red cross apron. I was familiar with that garb, worn over a black or grey dress. But to my surprise, it was not white! It was a dark, charcoal grey dress that buttoned down the front, with a wide belt that was meant to loop around my waist. Around the left arm was a red band of fabric, stitched perfectly with a white symbol of the nurse's symbol: a cross. Whenever I had seen that marking as a child, I had thought it was a 'plus' sign, like the one you used in addition.

After a few more layers of the same uniform I came across the only white one, meant to be worn specifically on proper occasions. It had a high waisted skirt that draped all the way down to my ankles. My other uniforms only reached a little lower than my knees. All the 'dignified' ladies of the world would be horrified. I smirked at the thought. Worn over the skirt was a matching white blazer with brass buttons and blue insignia on the arms. It looked exactly like a man's best uniform, except fitted for a woman. The thought of this almost made me giddy.

After placing all of the clothes back safely in their box, I opened the other. Shoes and hats. There was a pair of charcoal boots and classical working heels that were laced and tied at the top. The last pair were the white ones, meant to match the dress uniform. I always thought it was rather stupid to have white shoes. You could only get them dirty. The hats matched each uniform to a tee, the little cross sewn into the top of each. I repackaged all of my new belongings.

Yawning at the time, which had regularly escaped me before, I changed into my nightclothes and crawled into bed, glad that 'sleeping cars' had been invented long before I had been born. The rattling of the tracks lulled me to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I stepped off of the train, directly into the dirt, with some assistance from Will. There was no platform here, and there probably never was one to begin with. Boisleux-a-Mont was a small town, made of hardly thirty buildings all together, and the tallest of them was the Catholic church tower, but that only reached four stories tall.

The white uniforms of the nurses stood out against the dull brick buildings as we walked to our final destination. As we approached, I saw some of the women around me start to gag. I smelled the powerful scent of Calcium Oxide, more commonly known as lime. It was used everywhere in war hospitals because it slows the decomposition of wounded flesh and infection. The entire back carriage of the train contained supplies for the hospital here, and at least half of those supplies was boxes of lime.

We stepped up to a white washed, three level building. A Red Cross flag hung on the outside, just next to the red and white Canadian flag. From the outside appearance, I could tell it wasn't up to date on the standardized health codes. I understood that this was how it was going to be. The inside was probably worse than the outside too. I decided that I would try to clean it up a bit. Keeping the soldiers in a more sanitary environment wasn't going to hurt anyone.

There wasn't necessarily an elected leader among our ranks, so one of the other male doctors had made his way to the front and knocked on the door. He seemed arrogant in his manner, and I was wary that he might think he was better than I. My uniform matched his in color, so he couldn't deny my rank, but there was still the matter of my age and gender.

"That's Dr. Castor Dahlstedt." Will murmured to me, annoyance creasing his features. "He and his twin, Pollux, went to the same medical school as me. They can drink you under the table."

My frown deepened. We hadn't even started and we already had two alcoholic doctors.

The door was thrown open haphazardly by a short man with graying hair, like a moment couldn't be spared to even give our group a glance. We shuffled into the building, dropping our meager luggage at our feet, and waited to be told what we were to be doing today. I figured we would be assigned our sleeping quarters, and then get a tour of the make-shift hospital. But evidently that was not the plan.

The short man called out over all of our noise, "Can I have all of the doctors over here, please?"

Will and I shared a glance. What was going on? Piper nodded that she would watch our baggage while we took care of whatever this was. Once all of us in our gray uniforms had circled around the man, he announced himself.

"My name is Francis Laurent, and I am the custodian of this hospital. Unfortunately, we haven't a moment to spare with all of the men coming through here. We're the only medical center for miles, and we're severely understaffed. I'm afraid you must begin right away." Laurent told us, and I could feel the entire group grimace.

"Mr. Laurent," I began. "We've only just arrived and I think some other things need to be in order before we begin. For instance, I think you should at least show the nurses their accommodations. The rest of us doctors will surely be able to tour the establishment and then we could begin."

Dr. Castor made a face. "Who put you in charge?"

I made a face back, "I was just putting out an idea, unless you have any other suggestions?"

I was shorter than all of the men here, except for Laurent, who I was only a hair taller, but most already acknowledged my authoritative code. I continued, "Is that acceptable for everyone?"

Laurent frowned but nodded anyways. I turned and yelled over the noise of the nurses. "Alright, listen up! Mr. Laurent here is going to show you all where you will be sleeping. Get settled quickly and then see if you can help the nurses already on staff."

They collected their things and followed Laurent out. They listened to me! I liked being in a place of power. In fact, I liked it so much that Will and I lead the exploration of the hospital. From the very beginning, though, I was disheartened. The first level of the building housed the nurses and doctor's rooms, the kitchen, a small common room, and the first room full of soldiers. It was dark and musty with the windows being covered with dark coverlets. I could hear the rats scurrying around the edges of the room as well as I could hear the groans of the injured. The smell of excrement in the air outweighed the scent of lime. Looking further at the structures, I could see that most of the beds housed two men and were almost collapsing at the center. It was grim. Will and I shared a frown of disapproval. We could do better than this.

We nodded at the attending nurses, in which there were two. Definitely not enough to be taking care of the forty plus men in the room. Our group ascended the narrow staircase. It was sturdy; made of concrete and metal supporting's. I could see why they chose this building. At the second-floor platform, all of us took mandatory face masks and wrapped them around our mouths and noses. This was the infection ward, and probably where most surgeries took place. We could hear the moaning and cries of pain from outside the door.

Stepping into the room, my eyes widened. It was worse in here, if possible! No light, lots of pests, lice crawling on the beds, and worst of all: the procedure taking place before my eyes. I glanced over at Will and I could see the anger as we watched one of the doctors stop sawing at the bone of a soldier's arm and yell, "Stop complaining, you wretched thing!"

The nurse holding him down began immediately sewing up the wound. She looked awfully sorry as she did it though.

The other doctor beside me (I didn't know his name) clenched his fists at the horrible doctor's words. Then that same man wiped his saw on a cloth before turning around and beginning on his next patient. I gasped as he began. He didn't even sterilize it! If the first man had an infection, the next one would get infected too! This place was at the same standards of medicine as the American Civil War!

The horrified but angry man next to me said, "We have to do something."

It came out muffled behind his cloth mask. I only nodded in reply. The man surged forward and took the saw out of the fiend's hand, promptly throwing it to the ground and pushing a thick cloth up against this man's arm. His nimble fingers applied pressure as the old doctor looked on incredulously. I approached him and Will came over to assist our man.

"What is your name, sir?" I asked in a polite, but firm tone. He would not be getting off so easily.

"Doctor Atlas Gregorein, at your service." He gave me a mock bow. I glared at his playfulness.

"Yours is a fitting name, Dr. _Atlas Gregorein._ " I began and watched confusion fall on his features. "Atlas was a Greek Titan, as you probably have heard, known for his cruelty. And Gregorein means awake and watchful. You see pain, and then inflict cruelty. Yes, we all saw how you handled these men," I motioned to the now unconscious figures lying in the dark. "And I have to say, I am not pleased by your mannerisms."

"You're not pleased with my _mannerisms?_ " He mocked me. "Sweetheart, wake up! There's not a thing _you_ can do to change things around here."

I scoffed, not letting his words affect me. "Then who can?"

"Well, let's see, shall we?" Atlas said. "Any of these men could. But certainly not you."

I glared and bit my tongue to stop from saying something I would later regret. Thankfully Will stepped in, saying, "Wrong choice of words, my friend. Like it or not, I think Dr. Chase is going to be running this hospital by the end of the day. She knows what she's doing—"

"But she's a woman!" Atlas protested and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Yes, I can see that." Will told him, annoyed. "None of the rest of us have a problem with her. But we do have a problem with you. Your treatment of these patients is not acceptable. And the man you were just about to start procedure on—"

"And who do you think you are?!" Atlas was beginning to become angry. "I've been here longer that you—"

"I'm Dr. Will Solace, and my friend here," Will motioned to the man who was still holding a towel to the soldier's arm. "Dr. James Treavel, noticed that this man's arm didn't even need to be amputated. It was lucky that we caught you early enough that we can still save it. I suggest you take your leave for the rest of the night."

" _Take my leave?_ I don't think so—"

Atlas was interrupted by the opening of the door. Mr. Laurent barged in to see what all the commotion was. "What the devil is going on up here?"

Dr. Castor answered for us all. "Dr. Gregorein here thought it would be wise to not take proper precautions during surgery. We're just taking care of it. He needs to be dismissed for the night."

I was glad that Castor agreed that Atlas needed to go. He probably didn't like how I was taking control, but no one else seemed to be, so I figured I could do _something_.

"Well you heard the popular vote, Gregorein." Laurent said. "Go downstairs and we'll have a chat later." Turning to the rest of the soldiers in the room, who had been quietly watching the whole time, "I'm sorry you all had to see that."

"Are you kidding?" One of them asked. He had a large bandage covering half of his face. "That was the best entertainment we've had in days."

Muffled agreements were heard throughout the room. I smiled slightly. We soon finished the tour after getting one of the nurses to sew up the injured man. I found out that her name was Andrea Lisac, and was very quiet. The third and last level of the building housed the rest of the men. It was the sort of "holding room" where these soldiers would wait before being transported to a long-term hospital in the city. Its amenities were the same: packed with people (some without beds) and infested with vermin.

Our group of doctors went downstairs and took a short break of unpacking our belongings. My clothes were folded neatly in the trunk at the end of my bed and my equipment was stored in a smaller carpet bag on top of that. Each of the rooms could house eight people, so I was happy Piper had saved me a bed next to hers. I didn't know the other women I was rooming with, but that was alright with me. Next, we had a late lunch of bread and cold meat. By the time everyone was finished, it was mid-afternoon and we had some things to discuss. Laurent headed our 'meeting' of sorts.

"So, first things first. You all need to elect a leader from your group. I've been doing the best I can around here, but I would prefer if one of you took over." He told us.

I looked warily around the room. Who else was going to want the 'in charge' position? Then Will stood up and said, "I wouldn't mind the position, but I think Dr. Chase and I, if she's willing, could make a good team in determining what is to happen here."

There were a few nods around the room and I felt relief come over me. Yes, Will and I could make a good team. We didn't step on each other's toes.

"Are there any problems with that?" Laurent asked. A few of the male doctors (Castor and some others) looked a bit uncomfortable, but didn't say anything. Laurent continued, "I guess that settles it, then. Dr. Solace and Dr. Chase are now the head attendants. If there is ever a problem with their leadership, come to me."

Laurent left the room and I felt many eyes on me. Someone asked, "So what are we to do now?"

Will nodded to me that I could answer this one. I nodded back gratefully then replied, "The first order of business is to start taking care of the men. Nurses, I want half you to start helping those already working here. The other half should start cleaning, you haven't seen how bad it is yet, but we need to get all of the vermin out and start getting this place to some form of sanitary."

The group of nurses split, though not very evenly. There were only about ten left to help with the cleaning. Some of our doctors left to attend to the soldiers as well.

Will continued to address those remaining for me. "We'll split up into three groups, one for each level. The first thing to do is to sweep the floors and spread Lime around the edges of the room. Pick up any medical equipment and bring it all down to the washing room by the kitchen where a few of you will wash and sterilize all of it."

"And take down the curtains in front of the windows." I added. "Those men need some sunlight."

"How is sunlight going to help them?" One of the nurses asked.

"Florence Nightingale began her crusade for better nursing long before she died in 1910. She proved that the better conditions people are taken care of in, the better they will heal and be able to get back to normal." I informed them all. "We will be using a lot of her techniques in the following months."

"So, we're basing this hospital on the work of a dead woman?" Castor asked.

I nodded, saying, "Lots of things in the past have been based on the work of dead men, so is there a problem?"

"No, ma'am." He replied smoothly.

"Alright then." Will said. "Let's get to work.


	4. Chapter 4

I glanced around at the work that had been accomplished in just one week, and nodded to myself. This was a step in the right direction. In the past few days we had gone through some tough moving around because of Will's and I's orders. Each level of beds had to be washed and re-stuffed. Most of the linens had to be replaced and new bed frames were being built as I organized the supply closet on the second floor. A certain sense of order overcame the Central Clearing Station.

Sure, it was almost always crazy trying to keep track of everything because new wounded arrived every few hours, and many left for hospitals at the same time. The medical records cabinet was a mess as well. No one seemed to have taken proper medical notes for each patient before our group had arrived. Now I had to fix this as well.

When I wasn't organizing and filing, I was taking on intense surgeries that could last hours at a time. It was amazing that I found enough time to sleep. We had created a sort of rotation of the doctors and nurses. I made sure I was never on the same shift as Atlas, and when we did see each other, he would glare intensely at me. The role of head surgeon was no longer his. I had appointed Dr. James Treavel, who had proved to be one of the best I had ever seen.

A quiet man, James didn't speak unless it was absolutely necessary. He would issue soft orders to nurses during his examinations, but that was mostly it. If you wanted to talk, he was a good listener. I, myself, had found myself talking to him over meals about what we should be doing with the soldiers. Their treatment was of the upmost importance to both of us, so we did a lot of planning together. I did most of the talking, of course.

"Dr. Chase!" I heard a shout from downstairs. I shut the cabinet I had been working on. Descending the staircase, I was met with a rush of chaos.

Piper tore past me up the stairs with a stack of linens in her arms. "There's another wave of soldiers coming in as we speak. And the injuries are _really_ bad this time." She called over her shoulder.

"Got it." I called back and came into the first-floor room. We had turned this room into our surgery room. Right now, it was being flooded with new patients. I pulled on some rubber gloves from the bin in the hallway and a new gauzy surgical mask. Piper reappeared behind me and did the same. Here we go.

Coming to my station there was a man already lying there. He was semi-conscious and had multiple wounds.

"Assessment." I said.

Piper launched into listing his external wounds, "Shrapnel in his left leg and cerebral cortex, fractured right arm, and a gunshot graze in his stomach."

I groaned. "Why don't they bring these men to us immediately when their injured?"

"What are we starting with?" Piper asked.

"Shrapnel in his head," I replied, easily. "If we don't get that out, the rest of the healing process is futile. Tweezers and Catlin knife"

Piper handed the tools to me. The man whose name I didn't know slipped out of consciousness as I began. I was glad or that. I didn't like using chloroform all that much because no one seemed to know the long-term effects of the drug. Sure, it was helpful, but could it cause more harm down the road?

"Begin working on stopping that blood from the gunshot," I ordered. Piper tore his dirty and bloody uniform, leaving his chest open to the air. I glanced at it and decided that it looked worse than it probably was. As she began to clean the wound, I slowly shifted each tiny piece of bullet shrapnel out of his face, sometimes using the knife to cut rotting flesh out of the way. This man should have been in the hospital as soon as he had been hurt. Instead, they had waited until he was on the verge of death to send him to safety.

When I had finished, I soaked up the blood on his face with a clean towel. Without speaking, Piper and I switched places and she sewed up the larger incisions. Her tiny stitches could hardly be seen except for the black thread she was using. I, meanwhile, checked her work on his abdomen, then wrapped it in a clean white bandage. Next, I cut the bottom half of his pants off, so I could get to the shrapnel on in his leg.

Though it took longer, I would rather sit and remove shrapnel than decide to cut off someone's limb. That would only cause more trauma for the soldier to go through, but it sometimes had to be done. That was not the case here, and I began my careful work once again. When Piper finished bandaging the soldier's head, she began setting his arm, so that his bones would mend correctly. After that, she helped me with his leg and soon we were finished.

I wrote a short note listing his injuries and what I had done then clipped it to the end of the bedframe. As Piper and I changed gloves, two boys, aged around 15 or so, lifted the man onto a wooden stretcher and moved him upstairs, taking the list that I had written with them. Then another wounded man replaced the last and we got to work again, following the same procedures over and over until our shifts were over.

I yawned silently as washed up for the night, dragging a coarsely woven, wet rag over my skin, smearing the blood that had gotten on my arms earlier. It had been a long day. The 'shipment' of men had come in at nearly 12:30 p.m. and I had finished my last patient at around 9:00 p.m. In total, I had worked on about forty or so of them, and so did the rest of the doctors. Now that we were switching out I could wash up and change into a clean uniform before eating dinner. Afterwards, I would stay up a little later with Piper to write all of the reports for each of the men we had treated.

Technically, only I, as the doctor could write the reports, but Piper refused to go to bed until I had completed my work. So, she helped me. I was sure every doctor at the Boisleux-au-Mont clearing station had an assistant, otherwise nothing would get done in the first place.

The dinner tonight was a thin soup with celery and potatoes. Most of the nurses insisted that the soldiers have the best food available to them, so that they could heal faster, and I had agreed. But that didn't mean I had to like the food I was eating. The soup was watery and tasteless. However, it was hot, and that was more than most people were getting in this war.

As I made my way to the top level, which was where most of the men were crammed, I passed Will in the staircase.

"Annabeth." He acknowledged me. I could see that something was bothering him. I nodded back to him. Will and I didn't see much of each other. Because there were two of us leaders, we were put on different shifts. I was just glad that I had the day shift. I didn't like working at night by the light of small electric lamps. They made the shadows in the corners of the room flicker, reminding me none to subtly of my fear of spiders. I could take anything else besides spiders. I shivered just thinking about it.

"How are you faring, Will?" I asked.

"I'm alright." He answered. "I heard you had a lot of patients today."

"Yeah. There were so many of them." I sighed and leaned against the wall. "It seems amazing to me that our governments can stand to let this happen to our soldiers; to our people."

"I'm afraid there's not much they can do. Our enemies just keep creating more and more weapons with deadlier force to use against us." He brushed his hands on his trousers. It was a nervous habit of his. "My father says that we have to find something to help us fight beck harder against them."

Confusion befell my face, "What exactly does your father do?"

Will swallowed anxiously, but answered anyway, "Normally I wouldn't tell people this, Annabeth, but I'm sure you can keep a secret, yes?"

I nodded, telling him he could talk.

"My father is Julius Apollo." He said, and gauged my reaction.

My eyes widened. Only those of us in the medical wartime world knew that name. Many of us didn't even like to think about his work. Julius Apollo was a doctor who excelled in chemical warfare. His creations terrified even me, and Will Solace was his son?!

"You see why I don't like to tell people. But he has been working on this poisonous gas that could hurt thousands of people." Will paused and met my eyes briefly before glancing away again. "We've never gotten along. I took my mother's last name growing up. I don't approve of him using his skills to hurt people, and he doesn't approve of my desire for no loss of human life. That's why I became a doctor. To save lives."

By the end of his short speech, Will had begun to speak faster and faster until he had to stop for a breath of air. Without thinking, I pulled him into a hug and promised, "It will all work out in the end. I think of you as my brother, and like it or not, we're family now, okay?"

Will took a shuddering breath and then pulled away, smiling gratefully down at me. "We even have the same hair color!"

I laughed. It wasn't a sound heard often in a place like this. "Well, I have to go do my reports, so let me know if you need anything."

"I will." He replied. "Thanks, Annabeth."

"You're welcome." I said, then continued up the remaining stairs.

Upon entering the third floor, I was unfortunately met with the sight if chaos once again. There was a group of nurses surrounding one man, and I couldn't tell what was wrong, just that he was almost screaming with pain. All around me, the rest of the men were trying to cover their ears, trying to block out the horrible noises coming from the cot in the corner.

"What the hell is going on here?!" I shrieked loudly, and got the nurses attention. I was surprised when I saw that Piper was one among them.

"Oh, Dr. Chase, thank God you are here! Please, you have to help him!" Piper almost cried.

"What is wrong?" I asked quickly, as I ran over to the supply table and grabbed some gloves, but no one gave me an answer. "Come on, then. Assessment!"

"We don't know ma'am!" Another nurse answered me over the terrible screaming.

I approached and saw that this soldier's stomach had swollen to double a normal size. I tried to think of what it could be, but couldn't think with all of his screaming.

"Somebody get him to sleep before I take out his vocal chords!" I ordered wildly. As soon as I started issuing commands, the stress levels in the room were going down. All except mine. I was going to have to cut this man open to see what was the matter. After prodding his bare stomach in a few places, I had some idea of what was wrong.

Piper looked at me for an answer, "What is happening to him?!"

I glanced at his face, which was handsomely chiseled with minimal scarring. There was just one tiny scar on his top lip. A giant bump on his forehead made me wonder what had happened to him. His blond hair was ragged and dirty.

"I think he may have ruptured his appendix." I told her. "Why does he look like he's been hit on the head with a brick?"

Piper ignored me and gave me a small bottle of antiseptic. I swallowed nervously and took it. I had never done this kind of surgery before. I had only seen it done once, briefly, in Manhattan.

Throughout the next hour and a half, I did what I remembered, falling back on my acute memory. The nurses shuffled around me, doing exactly as I said, not questioning me. They soaked up blood, maintained that the soldier stayed asleep through the procedure, handed me equipment, and even pulled my hair back when it escaped the bun at the back of my head. And then, it was over. I finished the last knot of his outer stitches and collapsed against frame of the bed. They would have to take them out in two days to take out the ones that I had put in his stomach tissue, and then sew him up again.

Glancing warily at Piper, I saw her brush an easy hand over the man's facial features. It wasn't in a friendly way. It was an endearing touch, as if they were more than just friends. I rose an eyebrow at her, which she promptly ignored.

The other nurses had left us now, and the room was mostly quiet except for the sounds of the sleeping men. As we cleaned up our equipment, I asked Piper, "What is his name?"

"Jason Grace." Piper replied softly, then looked back at him, as if to see if he were still there.

"Who is he?" I inquired. She didn't answer for a second, then met my eyes. I could never decide what color they were, just that they seemed different every day.

"He's a Lieutenant among the Royal Army." She told me. So, he was an Englishman who had probably joined the army young, and then worked up the rank just as the war started.

Piper and I were finished for the night. We decided to wake up early in the morning to do the reports for the files. Meanwhile, as we were getting ready for bed, I questioned her about Lieutenant Grace of the Royal Army.

"How did the two of you meet?"

Piper shrugged effortlessly. "When you went to bed two nights ago, and I was still putting some supplies away, he began to have a nightmare. Many of these men do, so, I tried to comfort him. He eventually woke up, but didn't want me to leave until he had fallen asleep again. I sat up with him for a while, and we just talked."

She sighed happily, "We didn't even mention the war. It was like it didn't exist and we were just two people who had the good fortune to meet each other."

I smiled sadly for her. "Listen, Piper. I know you may like him—" her face flushed scarlet. "But where is this going to go? In a few days Lieutenant Grace will be sent off to a hospital in the city. And after that, back to the war."

"You don't think I know that, Annabeth?" Piper sighed, exasperated and forlorn at the same time. "Sometimes, it's just nice to dream, you know?"

Piper crawled into her bed and rolled over, so that she wasn't facing me. And though she didn't make a sound, I could tell from the way her chest heaved in the darkness, that she was crying.


	5. Chapter 5

Piper's p.o.v.

 _Two days earlier, 3_ _rd_ _level of the hospital, 10:30 p.m._

I yawned, restocking a box of thin rubber gloves on the shelf in the corner of the room. My eyes were already starting to droop. This week was becoming the longest of my life. The days were running together and I couldn't differentiate where one began and the other ended. Not thinking carefully, I had pushed the box too quickly and it scraped against the shelf before slamming into the back wall.

The loud noise made me jump and I turned to make sure none of the soldiers had been disturbed. They mostly just shifted in their cots before settling again. I went back to the supplies, thinking about all my friends, Annabeth and Will, had done for this place in the span of such a short amount of time. But I wished I could do more for these men. It wasn't enough for me to help save their lives; I wanted to comfort them and made sure they were going to be okay.

There was a loud whimper somewhere in the room. In the mostly quiet room I could hear everything, and I instantly located where the noise was coming from. There was a man in the opposite corner of the room, and he was beginning to violently twist and turn in his small cot. His broad shoulders almost reached both sides of his cot and his tall frame was only a little bit shorter than the bed itself. To tell the truth, he sort of looked like a figurine in a too-small doll house.

My breath faltered at the sight of his face. He was devilishly good-looking, but for some reason, I doubted that he knew it. I shook myself out of my reverie. He was having a nightmare for Paris' sake! Cautiously, I reached my hand out, and ran it over his forehead and through his golden blond hair. Over and over I did this, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

The man sighed uncomfortably in his sleep, and I simply said, "Shhhh now soldier. Tout est bien maintenant." I slipped into my native French, "Vous êtes en sécurité."

I told him that all was well now, and that he was safe. My words seemed to comfort him, and he soon stopped moving. His breathing was even, so I stood to leave. It was time for me to go to bed anyway. But suddenly a hand grabbed mine, stopping me from leaving. I looked down at the man to see what was wrong. He was silent but our eyes met inevitably.

Blue.

So, so blue.

"Who—" He tried to say, but coughed instead. I took the handkerchief out of my nurse's apron and held it to his mouth as he tried to sit up. I ended up lacing my fingers through his hair on the back of his head to support him. His hair hadn't been cut in a while. When he finished coughing, he smiled gratefully at me.

"Let me get you some water." I said and made to move.

"No—" he protested and I smiled, humor evident only to me.

"I promise to come back." I assured him. I went to the other side of the room and returned immediately with a cup of water. "Here you go."

After sitting down on the edge of the cot, I held the cup to his lips and he lifted his hand, covering mine. For some reason, our slight hand touch made my heart flutter.

The soldier began to speak again, "Who are you?"

"My name is Piper. I am a nurse." I told him plainly.

"Really? I couldn't tell." He replied sarcastically, his thick English accent apparent. I scoffed in reply. I really wanted to hear him talk again. His accent wasn't like Will's. They were both from England, but their voices differed in a way I couldn't explain.

"And who are you?" I asked him.

"Lieutenant Jason Grace of the Lancashire Fusiliers in the Royal British Army." He affirmed.

"That is a very long title, Lieutenant Grace." I commented with a small grin on my face.

"My rank is who I am." Jason maintained.

I looked sadly at him then glanced away, biting my bottom lip. "I think that is an awful way to judge someone."

"Sorry?" Jason asked. "Do you not agree?"

He was indignant, so I indulged him. "No, I do not agree. You can be the best general in the world, but that doesn't make you the best person."

His eyes softened, "You have experience, I presume?"

I nodded somewhat, surprised he wasn't going to fight me on my opinion. Most men liked to dominate the conversation, but that wasn't the case with Jason Grace.

"Care to tell?" He inquired. I shot him a look saying that he was being a bit nosy. He laughed, a wonderful sound, and said, "I'm curious! This is the most conversation I've had in a week."

I looked at him inquisitively, then decided to tell him. What harm could it do? "My father works for your government. They view him as a great man—a wonderful man, and yet, he had no time for me."

"He's serving his country—" Jason protested.

"Well, he didn't have to ship me off to France to live with a nanny, now he?" I countered.

He didn't respond. I sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry. I suppose I am a bit upset about it after all these years."

"Where was your mother?" Jason asked quietly. I swallowed and peered out the small window.

"She lives in Paris. A clothing designer, no less. But she didn't want me any more than my father does. He just wants to marry me off. And that is what will happen as soon as the war ends." I met his eyes again. "I don't know why I am telling you all of this."

Jason paused before answering, "Probably because you want a male figure in your life, but not one who is telling you what to do every second of your life."

I shook my head, astounded, "How could you possibly know that? I met you only a few minutes ago!"

"I can read people pretty easily." Jason smiled proudly.

I smiled back, "Yes. You can." I paused. "Enough about me. What about you?"

The light in Jason's eyes dimmed and I wanted so badly to make him light up again. He replied, "I joined the war effort when I was—"

Suddenly I cut him off by putting my index finger to his lips. They were softer than I thought they would be. "Don't talk about the war. Tell me about you."

My interruption made Jason smile, and then I realized what I had just done. My eyes widened and I pulled my hand away, only to have it be caught in his once again. Slowly he brought it to his lips and kissed my fingers. I was mesmerized. Captivated. Enchanted by the way his touch made my heart beat faster.

Finally, he answered my earlier order, saying, "Yes ma'am. I was born the son of a general and an actress. My father left a year after I was born, being deployed somewhere overseas. My mother received notice a few months later that he had been killed somewhere in Central America. Distraught by the news, my mother could not care for me, so I went and lived with my sister, Thalia, who was staying with our aunt. She and my mother never got along. I got the feeling that my aunt didn't like us either. She was my father's sister."

Our hands stayed connected while he talked. Jason's story fascinated me. All of a sudden, I wanted to know everything about him. And more importantly, I didn't want to see him go. He would be sent to a more permanent hospital in Paris in just a few short days. My unexpected attraction to this lieutenant wasn't just going to stop. No, I would remember this time for the rest of my life, I was sure of it.

"I want to know more about you, Miss Piper." Jason said, not continuing with his life story.

"What would you like to know?" I smiled and bit my lip.

"What is your favorite color?" He asked innocently.

I laughed in response, "How personal of you, Mr. Grace! I like—"

He cut me off, "Jason."

"Pardon?"

"Call me Jason." He urged.

I found myself nodding, continuing my original line of speech. "Well, _Jason_ , I like the color blue." Like your eyes, I thought to myself. "What's yours?"

"Purple," He replied instantly. "For some reason, the color reminds me of my father."

We were silent for a moment before his tone of voice changed to be grimmer.

"I hear all of these stories about him. The great and wonderful Jupiter Grace. He has so many stories about his bravery, and all I want to do is be a hero, just like him." Jason confided. "But it's so hard to act invincible like he did."

"Being a hero doesn't mean you're invincible; it means you're brave enough to stand up and do what's needed." I countered.

"You're right." He agreed after thinking about what I had said. Shifting his gaze from our entwined hands to my face, he said, "There's something about you, Piper. I don't know what it is, but something about you makes you so beautiful to me."

I flushed at his words, "What would make you say something like that?"

"I don't know." Jason remarked. "I've never said it to anyone before."

Somehow, my face reddened more than I had possibly thought it could. No one had ever talked to me like he was doing now. Downstairs the grandfather clock struck eleven times. It was late, and I had to be up early as it was.

"I have to go to bed." I told him and he nodded, closing his eyes. I untangled our hands and was about to move away. But then impulsively I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead. Practically scurrying out of the room, I descended the stairs to the main floor and left the cup next to the sink in the kitchen.

I blushed at the thought of someone seeing Jason and I. It certainly wasn't proper, what we had just done. Unchaperoned. Holding hands for the better half of an hour. I slipped into the room Annabeth and I shared with some other nurses silently. Though it was completely dark, my eyes adjusted quickly and I changed into my nightclothes, crawling into bed quickly because the floor was cold against the bare skin of my feet. It was mid-November now, and was getting colder every day.

As I lay there in the darkness, I thought about what my father had told me before I had set out for the warfront. That I would marry a soldier as soon as the war had passed. As soon as the treaty documents were signed, he said, I was as good as married.

Then I thought about Jason. It was so, so easy and nice to talk to him. I didn't think I would mind being married to him. No, not at all.

What was I saying?

The likelihood of us still knowing each other by the end of the war was nearly impossible. The chances of him still being alive by the end of the war was worse enough.

I didn't like those odds. How could I possibly hope, that out of everyone involved in this horrible war, Jason Grace would survive? And want to marry me by the end of it? As if.

But he did call me beautiful. Even now, I couldn't help but blush as my heart skipped a beat.

In a perfect world, everything would work out. We would meet, fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. In a perfect world, maybe. But it wasn't perfect. Not even close. Fairytale endings just didn't happen to people like me.


	6. Chapter 6

Annabeth's p.o.v.

 _December 25_ _th_ _, 1914, 12:30 p.m._

As I passed each cot I smiled brightly at each of the soldiers. So many of them had stayed in these cots over the last two months, I couldn't remember them all. But, it was Christmas, and the hospital was the happiest I had ever seen it. One of my favorite parts about my job was this: handing out the letters and packages sent from loved ones. The soldiers' faces lit up as they told stories of their childhoods and of happier times.

It would be short-lived, of course.

Nothing could last forever. Even this momentary reprieve of sadness. After finishing my rounds, I went downstairs to see why we hadn't had any incoming wounded. Surely the men in the trenches were still fighting, and fighting caused injuries.

There was no one downstairs besides the bedridden patients. Then I heard the commotion outside, and went immediately to investigate. All of the nurses, doctors, and attendants were staring off into the distance where you could just barely see the outline of the trenches. I rose a hand over my face to shade my eyes from the sun. There was an odd sound in the air. One I wasn't used to hearing.

Silence.

There weren't guns going off in the distance. No, there wasn't any violence at all.

"What is happening?" I asked the rest of the group, shivering in the light layer of December snow.

Someone answered, "They've stopped fighting."

My blood froze, just like the earth below me. I could see a large group of men running around just below the horizon. There were so many of them. Then I realized, it was a mixture of colors out there. Our soldiers were mingling with those of the Germans. Treason. They could be shot for their actions.

Someone voiced what I had just thought, "That's treason."

I countered them before anyone else could reply, saying, "And we're not going to do a thing about it."

"Happy Christmas." Will called from the doorway. He was supposed to be asleep, but no one could sleep on Christmas, not even me. We all voiced our felicitations, different countries speaking in their native tongues. I smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Will." I told him after he had found me in the small crowd that had formed. The residents of Boisleux-au-Mont had joined us in our little celebration.

"And to you." He replied. "Maybe this war is closer to being over than we thought."

That was wishful thinking. "I don't think so."

"Me neither." Will agreed, then called out to everyone. "Alright, you lot, we still have patients to attend to!"

No one grumbled as they went back to work. Today's Christmas Truce was enough of a miracle in itself. But somewhere deep inside of us all, we knew what would happen tomorrow. As soon as today was over. Would it start all over again? Which side was going to be the ones to decide to shoot their newfound friends? The thought of it made gooseflesh erupt all along my arms. Today faith in humanity had been restored, but the looming future of tomorrow—well, I didn't even want to think about it.

That night, I handed out the mail for the staff. Like I said, it was my favorite part. A few letters in particular caught my attention. The ones addressed to my friends, of course. I wouldn't call it snooping, but I _was_ curious. I read who they were from. Piper received letters from both her father and Jason. They had been writing to each other since he had left Boisleux-au-Mont, and Piper's face would light up like a flame every time I handed her the post.

The others were to Will. He didn't ever receive letters. One was from Dr. Greenberg. The other was different. It was written on standard military stationary, and read _'Primo Capitano Nicolaus di Angelo'_. The handwriting was pristine. I almost couldn't believe it had been written by a man. Primo Capitano. First Captain in Italian. That was the same rank as a lieutenant in the British army.

Why would an Italian captain be writing to Will? Then it hit me. Will was a homosexual. All of the signs were there, just disguised. I hit my lip. In this day and age, Parliament had decreed that it was illegal for gay men to be in the military service. Will was able to hide it better, being a doctor who worked with a mainly female staff. But his friend—a soldier—if he was found sending letters to another man. Well, he'd be done for. That was the law.

Someone coughed behind me and I jumped. I whirled around to see who it was—Will.

"What are you doing?" He asked calmly, hands shoved the pockets of his government issued trousers. I could tell that he already knew that he had caught me. He nodded when I didn't answer. "So you know then?"

"Yes." I replied simply, and held out his letter for him to take.

Will nodded again, his face only slightly red. "Are you going to have a problem with me from here on out?" He nervously awaited my answer.

"No." I didn't want to lose our friendship any more than he did. I didn't have a problem with his sexuality, either. Chiron and Mr. D. received enough retribution for living together, even if they didn't reciprocate feelings for each other.

"And you will keep my secret?"

"Of course." I promised. "That's what friends do, yes?"

"Yes." He said, looking much more relaxed.

"May I offer you a word of advice though, Will?" I asked. He was suddenly nervous again. I told him, "Tell your friend to be a bit sloppier with his handwriting. He flourished his capitals like a woman would."

With that, I turned away, and entered into my room. I deposited my roommate's letters, then shuffled through my own. One was from my father, and I shuffled it to the back so that I would read it last. It was probably just asking me if I would return home soon. The answer would always be 'no'. We didn't get along well, my father and I. The second was from Chiron, my beloved mentor and adopted father. The third was from someone whose name I hardly recognized. Dr. Albin Greenberg; the man who reminded me of Sherlock Holmes. What could he possibly want? He had sent a letter to Will, too.

I perched on the edge of my bed and opened the letter, reading carefully.

 _Dear Dr. Annabeth Chase,_

 _I have heard far and wide of your doctoring and nursing techniques, following in the footsteps of the great Lady Florence Nightingale and her practices. Since she has passed on, I find that you have proven yourself worthy of keeping her legacy up to date. I would like very much if you would come with me to a conference on how our nurses should be treating the wounded. In fact, I would like you to speak at this convention, on the very routine you complete every day. If you are not up to the task, please let me know as soon as you are able, because time is of the essence. I have sent a similar letter to your male counterpart, Dr. William Solace. I hope the both of you are able to attend._

 _The date is 28 January, 1915 at Queen Alexandra's Military Hospital in Westminster, London, England. If you are able to attend, I will send you further information detailing the occurrences of your stay. If you cannot be drawn from your noble work, I understand completely. If it pleases you, you may bring one person to accompany you._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Dr. Albin Greenberg_

He wanted me to come to London? Me? Out of everyone in the war effort? I thought for a moment. If I went, what would I even say? The opportunity alone was once in a lifetime. I decided to think about it, and set the letter on my pillow. I wanted to open Chiron's letter next.

 _Dearest Annabeth,_

 _I do not write to you to alarm you, but I thought that you should be aware of all that has happened in our country in the two months you've been gone. Our government, remains neutral, though heavily favors Great Britain and the Allied Powers. President Woodrow Wilson is sure in his efforts that we will not enter this war. But I know it is inevitable. Already, production of everyday items has halted. Instead of luxury items like jewelry and record players, we are now creating bullets and weapons of war. We are prepared to fight if it comes to it._

 _Annabeth, the children at camp are growing restless. They want to help in any way that they can, just like you. You have been such an inspiration for us all. Your work in France has reached all the way to America. There was even a small article about you in the Boston newspaper! A female doctor! Who would have thought? Let me tell you this, I have always known you were destined for greatness._

 _As for many of your friends, well, as grown adults, they are allowed to do as they please out there in the world. But I worry, my dear. Clarisse has gone off. Before she left she chopped off all of her hair and we haven't received any word from her. I have a feeling she has joined the military in some shape or form, illegally. As for Luke, the day he turned eighteen he went and joined a division of the government that he refuses to speak about. It is all very confidential, you see. All he says is that he is serving his country._

 _I do hope this reaches you in good health. I don't know when you will get it, so I wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year. Never doubt that I love you, Annabeth, like the daughter I never had myself._

 _Love,_

 _Chiron_

I bit my lip to keep from tearing up. Lifting up the letter to my face, I inhaled deeply, just barely being able to smell the scent of books and ink that followed Chiron everywhere. It reminded me so much of home, that I couldn't help but hate my accommodations of late. At home, I had a room with my siblings, and a desk to myself. Here, I still had the constant company, but not the will to do as I pleased. I had responsibilities now, though. And I couldn't let everyone down by ignoring them.

I folded the letter back up and placed it back in its envelope, moving on to my father's letter. Here we go.

 _Annabeth,_

He was always so formal.

 _I urge you to come back to America as I write this. Your family needs you. I need you to help care for my wife, especially. We have discovered that she is to be expecting twins, and I cannot support the whole family and work at the same time. Please, I beg of you, my daughter. Do your duty to your family. You have done enough for the country. Come home before it is too late._

 _From,_

 _Dad._

I shook my head in dismay. He would never change, would he? Trying to guilt me into coming back to him was never going to work. And what was this nonsense about 'home'? My home hadn't been with him since I was six! What would change now? _'You've done enough for your country'_. What the hell was that? I wasn't a child he could order around anymore. My accomplishments proved that.

I had been invited to speak at a hospital by one of the most respected men in London for heaven's sake!

Lord, how I wanted to push that in my father's face. And maybe I still would. I had to reply to him sometime. Perhaps if I went to London, I could send the letters for a cheaper price. I was already sending his new family money every two months from my pension. I wasn't that heartless. But I did keep half of it for myself. I had to live somewhere when the war was over.

Sighing, I placed all of my letters in between the sheets of my bed, and went to go find Piper for our routine records-keeping. Each level of soldiers was a-buzz with excitement. As I passed the rows of beds, I answered the same question over and over: "Did they truly stop fighting?" I nodded every time with a tight smile. This temporary happiness would be over soon.

I found Piper tucking a soldier's blankets tightly around him. After she finished, we sat down at the supply table with paper and pen, documenting notes by the light of a small lamp. In murmured voices we talked, so we wouldn't disturb those who were sleeping.

"Did you hear what else the troops did today?" Piper asked. She didn't wait for a reply before telling me anyway. "They traded prisoners of war from each side!"

I stopped writing to look at her. "What?!"

Piper nodded, eyes wide.

"Someone is going to be in a lot of trouble." I muttered and went back to writing about the stitches I had taken out this afternoon. They had healed nicely. But what of the two warring sides? Both governments were sure to be furious.

"I hope they don't react too badly." Piper said, and I nodded mutely. She didn't need to tell me who _they_ were. We both knew.

I decided to tell Piper about the letter I had received from Dr. Greenberg. She reacted well; a bit more excited than me, though.

"That's so exciting, Annabeth!" She gushed. "Just imagine it! This is such a big honor!"

"So I should go?" I asked, already knowing what she would say.

"Of course, you should go!" She chided. "I wish it was me! That would show my father, I know it."

"Then you should consider coming with me." I said. "I'm allowed one person to come with me."

Piper was ecstatic, the glimmer in her eyes evident. "I don't need to think about it! Yes! I will definitely come with you!"

Her cheerfulness wore off on me easily, and we finished our notes in a content silence. There would be much happening in the next few days. I would have to write some letters of reply, talk to Will, write a speech for the hospital, and finally, see what repercussions were going to come from the Christmas Truce. One thing was for sure, though. This day would go down in history.


	7. Chapter 7

_January 20_ _th_ _, 1915_

I folded the newspaper I had received this morning at the beginning of my shift. There was so much going on in the world, and I wanted to know all about it, so I was reading when I had time. Which was almost never.

I still hadn't replied to my father. I just couldn't force myself to do it. Deep down, I knew that was wrong, and mean. But I couldn't start a fight over letters. I had replied to Dr. Greenberg, telling him that I would be coming with Piper. As for Chiron, I had answered him too. I caught him up on how I was doing, and then tried to reassure him that Clarisse and Luke would be fine. It was like I was trying to convince the both of us. Truthfully, I didn't know what was going to happen to either of them.

I had done two major surgeries today—both involved taking bullets out of limbs. The soldiers would recover with ease. They had been moved to the top level of the C.C.S. and would stay there until someone cleared them to go back to fighting or to be moved to a permanent hospital. It was a funny circle of life here at war.

On January 12th, the U.S. House of Representatives rejects proposal to give women right to vote. I had groaned when I read that. When were they going to realize that women were just as good as men? That women weren't just meant to be cooking in the kitchen? Meanwhile, Russia moved in to occupy Bukovina & Western Ukraine on the 17th of January, which was good. And yesterday, there was a German zeppelin attack over Great Britain. The very first one. I bit my lip. I was to be visiting in about a month, and now there was more of a danger. At least here I wasn't being threatened.

"Dr. Chase! Dr. Castor! Dr. Treavel!" One of the nurses yelled up the staircase. I hurried down the steps and began with the routine: putting on gloves and a mask, then taking a look at the patient.

Piper started her assessment without me needing to tell her. "He's unconscious and has got shrapnel wounds in his chest cavity, I think they might be close to his heart considering the blood loss. There's a nasty cut on his head, needing stitches, and well, you see his leg."

I nodded. I did see his right leg. It was blackened and charred from the mid shin down. I knew, without a doubt, that it would have to be removed. I hated this part of my job.

"Okay." I said, seeing the blood loss on his clothes. "Do you know his blood type?"

Piper checked the papers that had arrived with him. "B negative."

"Start an IV to his arm and then begin to remove the shrapnel from his chest. Get one of the other nurses to stitch up the lad's head here." I pointed. "I'll handle the leg."

Keeping to myself, I made a tourniquet right above where I would be cutting. It would lower the blood circulation to his deformed foot and shin. As I sterilized the area of cutting, I assured myself that nothing else could be done for the poor soldier. He would never walk again if he kept his wound the way it was. I was giving him another chance at normalcy, to a certain extent.

By now, Piper had returned with the other nurse, her name being Katie Stoll. Around her neck was a chain with a wedding ring on it. Married. I picked up the weighty saw and told Nurse Stoll to give him some chloroform before I began. It would not do for him to way up during surgery, especially this one. He was going to be in enough pain when it was over.

Then, I began to cut.

I tried to think of other things, I really did. But nothing worked. My method of this type of surgery was different than others. I didn't try to hack at the limb, knowing that would only cause more damage. I cut slanted from the top and the bottom, exposing the tissue and veins to the work table. He was losing blood fast. Finally, I was at the bone, and here was the worst part.

Back and forth, I sawed at the strong thickness of the Tibia, and when that went through—the smaller Fibula. I exhaled in relief when I was done with that step, and dumped the saw in a bin to be cleaned later. Just lying there was his lower leg, now not attached to the rest of his body. One of the attending boys picked it up carefully with gloved hands and gave me a brief smile of encouragement, as if to say, _'Go on. You can do it.'_

I focused once more. I had to stop the bleeding.

Nurse Stoll was finished with the stitches and moved immediately to my side, soaking up the blood with a towel. While she did this, I prepared two needles. One for me: to sew together the proper veins and tissues. The other for her: to stitch up the remaining skin over the wound. In a week, it would be re-opened to take out the thread in his insides, then sewn back up for good. The black thread looked stark in contrast to the paleness of the man's leg.

 _This was for the best._ I had to remind myself, discarding my gloves into the waste bin. Piper and Katie Stoll cleaned the man up while I wrote my brief notes. I watched as he was taken away. It was kind of sad, really. I had removed a part of him, and I didn't even know his name. But that was what protected me. If I knew every one of their names, I would only torture myself more.

Nurse Stoll was called away to assist another doctor, and yet another man was at my station, needing care. Honestly, he didn't even look alive from the way he was laying there.

Wait—was he alive?

"Piper! Check for a pulse!" I ordered. She felt his neck.

"It's just barely there! We need to start compressions!" Piper replied, not an inch of panic in her voice.

I initiated instantly. This was strange. He didn't have any external injuries that I could see, just that his heart rate was decreasing steadily. There was no time to think though. What was I supposed to do? Just get him breathing. After thirty compressions and two pumps of air, Piper and I heaved the great man onto his side, so he could puke, if that was blocking his airway.

His vomit spewed onto the floor, and I didn't care. He still wasn't conscious. I began compressions again.

"Come on." I muttered to him. After thirty more compressions and two pumps of air, he regained his breathing, though still asleep. Piper wiped his mouth off, rinsing it with water as I took a deep breath.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"Didn't you see his back when we turned him over?" Piper asked.

"No. I was a bit busy trying to get him to breath." I countered. It was a little rude, but I was getting angry with myself for not noticing.

Piper narrowed her eyes at me, "It's covered in shrapnel. Big pieces, too."

I nodded complacently. We decided to turn him on his side again, so that I could check the damage. It wasn't good in the slightest. The largest shards of shrapnel were imbedded in the bulky man's back.

"We have to remove these." I said. There was one, however, that I wasn't sure about. It was lodged directly in the center of his lower back. How could I get that out without inflicting more damage?

As Piper and I pulled out as many pieces as possible, the biggest one in our future loomed, mocking me. Just as we were getting to it though, a groan from our patient was heard.

I rushed around to his front so I could hear him better.

"How are you feeling, soldier?" I asked.

"Like hell." Was his reply.

"Tell me your name." I ordered, immediately checking his papers to make sure he got it right.

"Beckendorf. Charles Beckendorf." Beckendorf claimed. He was correct. "My stomach really hurts."

I met Piper's eyes. It wasn't his stomach, necessarily. It was the shrapnel shard that had stabbed him in the back, probably extending all the way to his stomach region.

"We have to remove it." I told Piper quietly. We laid him flat on his chest this time, and then got to exposing the shrapnel piece. I realized I couldn't do this alone.

"I need another doctor!" I shouted painfully loud. I tried to ignore the fact that Beckendorf was still conscious. But he didn't make a sound of discomfort. Not one.

Dr. Castor appeared at my side in moments. Despite being a little chauvinistic towards me at the beginning, Castor now treated me as an equal.

"That's not a pretty picture." Castor mumbled. Together, we cut into Beckendorf's back, and started to slide the shrapnel out. Blood started to gush out of the wound as soon as it was gone. I pressed a towel to the entry point, but it was soon stained crimson.

"It must have nicked something." I murmured. "What do we do?"

"Turn him over and have a look from the front?" Castor offered.

So we did. His stomach was swelling quickly, and I understood what was happening. All of us did. His stomach was filling with blood. But before I could do anything, Beckendorf grabbed my hand, gripping it tightly.

"I know that look—" he sputtered, trying to tell me something. It was becoming harder and harder for him to talk and breath. "There's nothing you can do—Find Silena—promise me. Tell her I love her, yes?"

I nodded solemnly. Piper took the soldier's other hand.

Beckendorf continued, "She—she's German. In Berlin." He coughed. "She's not like the rest of them." My eyes were beginning to fill with unshed tears.

"I love her."

His labored breath drew quiet. His hand grew limp.

Castor crossed himself and then slid his fingers over Charles Beckendorf's lifeless eyes. With a shaking breath, I regained my composure. The three of us cleaned up his large body in silence, then place a sheet over him. I finished his report as they carried him away to be buried in the town's cemetery.

I promised him I would find his love, Silena, for him. In a small box, I placed his dog tags of identification, a wedding ring, and a small photograph of a woman. I assumed she was the one I would be finding. I made a promise, and I intended to keep it.

Later, I found out that Beckendorf had received his fatal wounds from jumping on top of one of his fellow soldiers, his back taking the brunt of the artillery explosion. He had died a hero, and there were only a few of us who knew it.

It wasn't fair. I knew that coming into this war. It couldn't possibly be fair. Not with the evil in this world. I had prepared myself for facing death in every corner, but this was the first man to die on my table. To die right in front of me. And I couldn't do a thing to stop it.

It was times like this where I had to pull myself away from my emotions. It was the only way _I_ would survive this hell.

I dismissed Piper, "Piper, you may take a leave for a few hours."

She nodded and took the pile of bloodied towels to the laundry room. Castor patted my shoulder awkwardly before shuffling away. The next patient was laid upon my newly sterilized table. I had to begin again.

There was no rest for the weary.


	8. Chapter 8

Instead of taking the train to Paris, then a boat back to England, Piper, Will, and I traveled by motorcar to Fort-Mahon-Plage. Since there were only three of us, this traveling should be a lot shorter than getting to Boisleux-au-Mont the first time. Surprisingly, I was enjoying myself. It had been so long since I hadn't spent all day assessing injuries and cleaning up blood. I lost myself in looking out the window, relishing in the French countryside as it passed by me.

Our small group had been sent a car that we could leave at the port then use once more when we returned. Will was driving, I was in the front seat, and Piper sat in the backseat reading a book. It was so odd to be sitting on the left side of the car with Will driving on the right. Of course, my companions didn't seem fazed by it. I didn't even mention driving on the other side of the road. They would roll their eyes, _stupid America, needing to be different._

I ran through my speech in my head. To me, it didn't seem good enough, even though Piper and Will assured me that it was.

"Stop thinking about your speech." Will ordered, shooting me a glance. I watched Piper roll her eyes in the rear-view mirror, she had put her book away now.

"Now that we're alone," She began. "We can finally talk about Will's love life in peace."

It hadn't taken Piper long to figure it out. In fact, she said she could tell when they had first met. Right now, though, Will was blushing scarlet.

"Do we have to talk about this?" His accent became thicker when he was nervous.

"Yes!" Piper and I exclaimed.

"Give us some details!" Piper urged.

"How about you go first?" Will opposed. "What about you and that soldier boy?"

I couldn't help but laugh as it was Piper's turn to blush. I was just glad that I didn't have anyone for them to tease me about.

"Jason is fine." She mumbled, now looking out the window.

"Anything else?" I asked sweetly, knowing she would give in eventually.

"He's stationed in Southern France right now." That was all she would say about the subject. "Annabeth, how about we find you someone in London, yes?"

I rolled my eyes and peered out the window. More countryside.

"I'm not hearing any objections!" Will laughed, his focus still on the road.

"We'll find a nice soldier for you. And you can finally settle down after all of this." Piper decided.

"But where would we live?" I indulged her. "My home is in America."

Piper shrugged. "Once you fall in love, everything will work itself out."

I smiled. Everything will work out, will it? And what of the war? It wouldn't just disappear if I wished hard enough. I finally answered, "If you say so, Pipes."

She nodded contently, then watched as the countryside slipped by. We were nearing our destination. My mind shifted back to the purpose of this trip. I was excited for the conference, just nervous, that's all. But one thing was for sure, this small trip was only going to add to the adventure of my life.

 _The night of the conference…_

"…It is because we have made the proper decisions in the way we run the hospital that it has the highest survival rate of any other Central Clearing Station in the war."

I swallowed as I had finally finished my speech. The room was full of unassuming wealthy people, who we were trying to convince to donate money to the medical side of the war. There was no better cause than this. Saving the lives of soldiers. After thanking the audience for listening, I sat back down in my seat in the front row next to Piper and Will. I had gone last tonight, and it was already dark out outside. Dr. Greenberg closed out on the night's seminar. He sought me and my friends out afterwards.

"I am so pleased that you were able to make it." He greeted with a firm handshake. A cane was balanced easily in his left hand.

"We are proud to have been invited." I answered for our small group. My companions nodded in agreement.

"When are you planning on returning to your posts?" The doctor inquired.

Will answered this time, "The day after tomorrow, if the weather permits us."

Greenberg nodded. "Well, you'd all best to be getting to the guesthouse you are staying in. It is late."

Smiling, we said our goodbyes, and left to the lobby to collect our coats. Somehow, Piper always managed to look gorgeous in her pale lilac dress with matching grey overcoat. I had settled for a dull blue skirt and shirtwaist with my black coat. As we stepped onto the snowy streets I shivered at the temperature change. Will offered Piper and I his arms and we took them, strolling down the road towards the inn where we were staying. I was in a delightfully good mood, considering the circumstances of the world.

The snow seemed to swallow up all of the sounds, and it was oddly quiet. Others like us ambled down the lantern-lit streets. 'A Winter Wonderland', you could call it. My hands were buried in my pockets, and deep in my right pocket, I clasped young Charles Beckendorf's dog tags. The thin metal quickly warmed against my skin. This was one reason we were leaving the day after tomorrow. I had to go to the deployment office and get Beckendorf's address forms. They could be the only thing to lead me to his _Silena._

There was a distant rumbling in the sky, but we heeded no mind to it. There were clouds above, promising more snow. Thunderstorms were not uncommon in this season.

But this was no thunderstorm.

We heard a whoosh of something falling before the screams started. The earth shook as explosions started going off, big clouds of smoke filled the air, and fiery flames brought heat to the frigid air. I coughed as I held up my sleeve to cover my eyes from the smoke. Eyes stinging, I looked to the sky. What the hell was going on?

A long outline of a zeppelin could be traced in the sky, its electrical lights lighting up the clouds around it. This was an air attack. An air raid on the mainland. * The war had followed us here. I looked to Piper and Will, who had come to the same conclusion. How was London going to be able to fight this? Did they have a weapon that could take down _an entire zeppelin?_ Panic started to run through my veins and I had to take deep breaths to get my pulse back to a normal rate.

"We have to help." Piper decided. She pulled up her collar and then her scarf to cover her nose and mouth. Will and I did the same, taking the beginning steps toward the impending crisis. All the while I prayed, _"Please do not drop any more bombs. Please."_ Down two streets and over one, we came across our first bombing sight. Black scorch marks streaked the road and surrounding buildings, two of which were on fire. The actual place the bomb had fallen was still burning, the flames latching onto anything flammable.

Cries for help pulled me from my reverie, and we all raced to different victims of these never-ending tragedies. I came to a stop beside a man and an unconscious woman. Unconscious, but still breathing. She had the reddest curly hair I had ever seen. My eyes ran over her body, searching and identifying wounds. Her lower leg was inverted in the wrong direction, sticking out underneath her skirt. Her coat had protected her from a lot of the burns that had formed on her face, and a great deal of blood streamed from her left ear. The explosion must have ruptured he middle ear.

The man I had stopped by was clutching her head, trying to stop the bleeding desperately. He cried out, "I don't know how to stop the bleeding!"

"Move." I ordered and he glared.

"I swore that I would keep her safe, and I don't intend on breaking that promise!" The man argued with me. I sneered at him.

"I will help her if you would just move over!" I pushed him out of the way, which surprisingly worked. The man clutched his abdomen as if he was in pain. I shot him a questioning look that he ignored. I reassured him, "I am a doctor for the British Red Cross. Trust me."

The man's vibrant green eyes searched mine for some small measurement of faith. Finally, he nodded and I got to work. His hands were bloody, and I only assumed that it was from holding the woman's head. I took off my gloves and balled one up, wiping away the excess blood so I could see how badly her ear was injured. But, I couldn't tell, it was too dark and there was too much bleeding.

"Help me turn her on her side?" I asked the man, and he complied without second thought.

"Why must we do this?" He asked me.

"We've got to drain as much blood from her ear as possible before applying a cold compress. That should slow it down a bit." I informed him. "Lie her back now."

I collected some snow from the ground and filled my glove with it. Next, I pressed it to her head. "Come now," I directed, showing him. "Hold it like this."

He reached out and our hands brushed accidentally; both extremely bloody, of course, and our eyes met. My breath caught in my throat for a moment. I drew my gaze away from his, and tried to calm my racing heart. This had never happened before. Why did my breathing take a hop, jump, and a leap when we met eyes? Did he feel it too?

 _Stop it_. I commanded myself. This was not the time for this. I glanced down at the man's chest, trying to see why he had been holding it earlier. A dark red discoloring stained his suit coat that I could see under his unbuttoned overcoat. I moved around the redhead's body and pulled the man's overcoat away from his abdomen. He pushed my hands away before I could assess anything.

"What are doing?" he asked incredulously.

"You are clearly injured—" I replied with the same tone.

"So what?" He complained. "I'm fine—"

"You are not fine!" I objected, attempting again to see where he was bleeding. "Now hold still."

"I am not under the impression of letting young women I don't know to touch me—" He protested and I shook my head in absolute disagreement.

"My name is Doctor Annabeth Chase from the United States, nice to meet you." I introduced myself. "There, we're not strangers anymore."

"Captain Perseus Jackson of the Royal Navy." He replied as I pushed his overcoat back, and unbuttoned his navy-blue suit coat to reveal a bloody dress shirt. As I had suspected, ballistic fragmentation in his chest around his right lung. He didn't seem to have too bad of labored breath, so I didn't think that it had been punctured, but a thin piece of glass, building debris, I'm sure, was lodged in the right lumbar region. Taking it out would only cause more damage that I couldn't fix on a street. He was losing a lot of blood though, all the while holding the cold compress to his companion's head. I glanced at their hands, neither of which had gloves or rings. Not married then. _Why do I care?_

"Pleasure to have met you." Perseus Jackson responded, looking directly at me. "There are two of you." He squinted.

Oh Lord, he was seeing double now. That was not good. _What do I do?_ Shaking my head again I lowered him to the ground so he was lying flat. I could hear ambulance sirens drawing nearer, and I only hoped they were coming to assist us, and not some other bomb sight. For some reason, I felt an emotional connection with this Captain Jackson of the Royal Navy. I usually blocked emotion when caring for the injured, but it seemed I couldn't help myself this time, which was a problem.

The next thing I knew, a small squadron of two ambulances and a fire truck arrived to the scene, carefully placing as many victims as possible into the vehicles and sliding away to the hospital I had spoken at not an hour before. At least they weren't going far.

As the sea green eyes, black haired man was lifted into the ambulance, he repeated, "Pleasure to meet you." That was before he passed out and I turned to find my next patient, glancing at the sky to see if the zeppelin was still there.

But I could not get Perseus Jackson out of the back of my mind.

 **Author's note***

 **This 'first air raid' of London is not accurate in timing. The first aerial attack of London took place in May, 1915. I moved it back to January, 1915, for plotline purposes. Thank you, readers!**


	9. Chapter 9

I yawned as I sat down in an empty chair in the hospital staffroom, checking my pocket timepiece for the hour. I blinked for a few seconds before actually recognizing the time, which read thirty-six minutes after four o'clock in the morning. I was feeling the effects of a long night of surgeries. My posture drooped and there were dark circles forming under my eyes. I started to drift off, but snapped myself awake when I realized that I needed to find Will and Piper so that we could go back to the inn and sleep for a proper eight hours.

I forced my weary body to my feet, and ordered myself to start walking around the hospital to find them. Walking would keep me awake as soon as I got my blood moving faster throughout my body. All down the halls was stretcher after stretcher of the injured, the secluded rooms already being taken up. Small privacy curtains had been hung up between them to offer some concealment from others, though it wasn't much. Seeing some of them reminded me of the man who had refused to leave my thoughts throughout the night. I did not understand what it meant. Was this how Piper and Will felt about their partners? Good Lord, I had to stop thinking like that.

Catching a trace of Piper's voice, I turned the corner and founder her talking to one of the nurses who worked at the hospital. I didn't want to interrupt their conversation, so I glanced around the corridor. And who, out of everyone, did I see? Yes, it was _him._

Making my way discreetly over to his cot that seemed to be small beneath his body, I looked him over for any traces of pain or injury. He seemed to be all right, just sleeping. I restrained a grin when I noticed that he was almost drooling in his sleep. I wondered what he was thinking of. Hesitantly, I reached out my hand and brushed some of his unruly hair out of his closed eyes. It was messy, but not unattractively so.

It was odd. I had seen so many injured, hurt men before him, and yet, Captain Perseus Jackson held my attention for some reason. I pulled the sheet higher over his body and accidentally brushed my hand over his arm, jarring him from his sleeping state. I smiled amusedly as his confused green eyes opened, and saw the recognition resonate within them.

"Sorry for waking you." I whispered.

He stared at me for a brief moment before coming to his senses, trying to sit up. I easily pushed his shoulders down, shaking my head. "You should still be resting."

"Dr. Annabeth Chase, right?" He asked. "From the States?"

"Yes." I replied. "How are you faring, Captain? Any—"

He interrupted. "You needn't call me Captain." He paused. "That is, you can call me Percy if you wish. That's my name, after all."

He faintly blushed as I smiled looking down upon him. "Very well, Percy. You can call me Annabeth, as well."

"Annabeth." Percy repeated, looking directly at me. A slight shiver ran down my spine. His gaze was unwavering, but not disconcertingly so.

"How are you faring, Percy?" I asked faintly, trying to remind myself subconsciously to do my job.

"My stomach kind of hurts. What happened? I don't remember much after you started taking my clothes off—" Percy stopped mid-sentence, realizing how bad it sounded.

My face reddened a bit, but I reminded myself that I didn't need to feel embarrassed. I smiled uneasily anyway. "You had a shard of glass lodged into your abdomen. It's been removed and the wound stitched up, so there is no need to worry."

"Thank you." He replied immediately.

"Oh, it was not me who did it." I told him. "One of the other nurses from the hospital is really to thanks."

"No matter." Percy heeded no mind. "You still helped me and Rachel—Oh no! Where is Rachel?!"

"Who?" I inquired quickly, seeing the panic in his expression.

"Rachel! The girl with the red hair—"

"Oh." I answered, feeling my heart dip at the mention of her name. I glanced around, before catching a glimpse of the curly red tresses that could only belong to one woman. "I think I see her down the hall, would you like me to go and see how she is doing?"

"If you wouldn't mind?" Percy replied. "Her father will kill me if I let anything bad happen to her."

I nodded mutely and turned away. He was on a strict basis with her father, then. That could only mean that he was courting her. I sighed and pulled over to Rachel's cot, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy running through me. She was beautiful, for certain. Much prettier than I. After taking her pulse and establishing that her leg had been set correctly, I made my way back to Percy.

"She is in good health, if I am to say so. Her leg should heal fine." I informed him. "However, I am not sure about how her ear will turn out. She could lose hearing on one side, but there is opportunity for a full recovery."

Percy nodded with relief. I started to turn away, but Percy's voice stopped me.

"Don't go—" He blushed again, stuttering over his words. "I mean, if you have to you can go, but if you have no other place to be, I wouldn't mind if you stayed."

My stomach did a flip-flop and I sat on the edge of his cot near his feet. "Okay."

"Okay." He replied in the same tone. There was an awkward silence as neither of us could decide what to say.

"So how did you decide to become a doctor?" Percy inquired. I was hesitant to answer. Usually men were of the opinion that women should not be anything above the rank of nurse, and they felt threatened by my authority.

I answered nonetheless. "I wanted to help people in the world, to create something permanent in terms of the lives I was saving. Being a nurse wasn't enough for me, I wanted to do something completely challenging, so I made it my goal to become one of the world's first female surgeons."

Percy nodded, as if he could understand. "And when the war started?"

"When it started I had just gotten my diploma before I signed up to be sent overseas. I didn't want to waste any time that I could be helping others."

"Your parents must be very proud." He commented and inhaled sharply. Percy noticed with concern, "Did I say something wrong?"

I shook my head in reply. "I would like to think my mother would have been proud of me, but I wouldn't know. She died when I was young."

"I'm sorry. I lost my father when I was a child as well." Percy paused, trying to tread lightly upon the subject. "And what of your father?"

I told him no more than I had to. "He and I do not see eye to eye. He would rather me be at home in a kitchen cooking and cleaning."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Percy resolved. He swallowed, looking anxious all of a sudden. "Do you not want to settle down eventually?"

Both of our faces reddened at the personal question. I looked down at my hands to answer, "I know I would, someday, after the war is over. I know I want a family of my own, but I—well, I haven't—"

"Found the one you want to settle with yet?" Percy interrupted and I glanced up, our eyes seamlessly catching each other's at the same moment. I nodded. He replied with, "Me neither."

My eyebrows shot up a bit at this, glancing down the hall to catch a glimpse of the red-haired maiden. Was he and Rachel not together after all? I couldn't help but feel a little excited at the prospect. Percy caught my drift almost immediately before shaking his head.

"I know what you're thinking, but no, we're not—I mean, she's not—I'm not—I think what I'm trying to say is that we are not courting or anything." Percy stumbled and I couldn't help but smile. "Her father is trying to set us up, but it isn't working. Rachel and I are simply friends, that's all—"

"I understand." I cut him off before he became even more embarrassed. Percy pursed his lips before saying, "Forgive me, I talk when I'm nervous."

I laughed, "What are you nervous about?"

"Umm, you." Was all he said. I smiled a bit in confusion.

"How do I make you nervous?" My heart was starting to beat faster in apprehension.

"Uh, um—well," Percy mumbled.

Before he could continue, however, someone cleared their throat from behind me. I turned to see Piper with a child-like grin on her face. _Uh oh._ This could only mean one thing. Meddling.

"Hi there, I'm Piper, a friend of Annabeth's." She was very forward, and my face flushed, not that the two of them noticed because they were too busy introducing themselves.

Suddenly Piper turned towards me, saying, "Annabeth, Will is at the entrance waiting for us, would you mind helping him with the coats?" She shot me a look that ordered me not to disagree with her. I bit my lip, then nodded. I got up from my spot on the bed.

"It was lovely to meet you, Percy." I said. He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. Finally, he replied, "Yes, it was nice to meet you."

I turned away and headed toward the front of the hospital, even though a feeling in my stomach wanted nothing else but for me to stay. I kept walking though, ignoring every want in my body to turn around just to catch a glimpse of Perseus Jackson. It was stupid, and not to mention, idiotic, to think that he had felt what I did. That didn't happen in real life. At least not to me it didn't. Those sorts of things only happened in Jane Austen romance novels.

When I had made it to where I could see Will, I took a deep breath and approached him.

"Here you go," He said, holding out my coat so I could slip my arms into it. I thanked him as I shoved my hands in my pockets, my gloves being long gone now.

"What's wrong?" Will asked me.

"Nothing." I answered, and even I knew that it was an outright lie.

Will laughed, "Nothing serious, you mean?"

I nodded, relenting to his playful teasing. Piper appeared moments later, a smug expression dancing on her face. What had she done now?

"Ready?" Will quipped, drawing me out of my thoughts. He and Piper were watching me with matching smiles. I rolled my eyes, stifling a yawn. I had been awake for too long.

"Let's go back to the guesthouse. I think we all need to get cleaned up and sleep." I, personally, could not wait to bathe. My blue skirt was ruined. I had put an apron over it when I had gotten to the hospital, but that hadn't helped much. It was almost of sentimental value to me, being one of the few things I had brought with me from Camp. I sighed. There was nothing I could do about it now. I had to move on, get a few hours of sleep, and then investigate more into Beckendorf's life. I had sworn to him, but it was going to take a long, long time before I carried it out.

Why was it that making promises is so effortlessly simple in the moment, but actually carrying out the deed is so much harder. It made me wonder about why some people made promises at all. My father had certainly made and broken enough. _Oh, Annabeth, it will always be just you and me. I promise._ Then he married a woman who hated me. _Annabeth, dear, please come home. We can all be one happy family._ I did come home, for a week, and it was one of the most hellish weeks of my life. _Annabeth, I promise I will always love you._

Beckendorf's dog tags were cold in my pocket.


	10. Chapter 10

I wish I could say that I saw Percy again before we left London. I wish that I had found out a way to tell Beckendorf's love that he wasn't coming home. I wish that I could have fixed whatever problem I had with my father.

But none of those things were happening. We left London on time, heading back to our station in France. The war department would not release to me the whereabouts of Beckendorf's family, and grew very angry when I would not hand over his dog tags. Meanwhile, my father had not returned any of the letters I had written to him since I had refused to come home and care for his wife. I did not know how any of them were faring.

We arrived in Boisleux-au-Mont a few days into the month of February. The frigid snowy air discouraged any thoughts of warmth or happiness. There was a sad atmosphere in the hospital, more than usual at least, as the war dragged on. The only respite from the gloom was the day of St. Valentine's arrived, and the nurses and doctors handed out the mail from the soldier's family.

My heart dipped when I still did not receive any word from my family in the States. It seemed my father had all but disowned me, and my mood grew ever the depressed, not that I let it affect my work. Piper and Will noticed it, though, and often shared glances with each other that they thought I didn't see.

It was a good thing, I think, that I had my work to distract me. Nothing took your mind off of your own issues like the severely wounded. I thought about this as I injected a small amount of anesthesia into my current patient's knee. There was a large gash running over his knee that was going to need a lot of stitches. This man had injured himself badly and had ignored it for as long as he was on the front lines. Now here I was, picking maggots out of the rotting flesh. Lee Fletcher, was his name, I believed. His blond hair reminded me of Will's. Unlike Will, however, was the fact that Lee liked to sing.

He hummed even as I sewed up his wound, some songs I knew and others I didn't, but mostly church hymns. It raised some of the men's spirits as he sang, his voice a clear tenor sound. It gave hope in the dismal infirmary, so much that I wanted to talk to him to find out what drove him so much. I took out his stitches as we spoke.

"I'm a sharpshooter for the Royal Army, but I'm originally from Poland. Got the singing from my Dad, I think." Lee smiled and then winced. I nodded for him to continue, after all, talking often distracted from pain. It was rather unfortunate, him being from Poland, where the territory was the location of the eastern front. He probably worried after his family a lot.

"He always had a tune in his head. Rhymed a lot. My sisters and I would come home from school and tell him about our day, then he would make it into a song." Lee closed his eyes, remembering. "Sometimes he sang strange songs too. Songs that didn't make sense at the time, but did in the future."

Lee's eyes were still closed, and he started to drift off to sleep. I was confused by what he had said though. Made sense in the future? Like some sort of prophet? Then Lee started to sing:

 _"_ _You shall go west to face those who have turned,_

 _You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned,_

 _You shall be betrayed by the one you call friend,_

 _And fail to save what matters most in the end."_

Eyes still shut, he clarified, "I have come west to face my enemies who used to be my allies. And I am fighting for the stolen land and freedom that the Germans want so desperately to take away…It will all make sense in the end."

My hands gathered my tools, and I set off down the stairs to the surgery room to see if there was anything I could do. Lee's words had made me uneasy for some reason. If everything made sense in the end, it wouldn't be life. Life wasn't meant to make sense. It was inconvenient—and messy—

"Annabeth!" Piper pulled me aside to where I could drop my tools in a sink to be washed.

"What is it?" I asked, wondering what on earth she wanted. We had things to be doing. There was never a moment of rest here when it was your shift.

"This came for you." Piper handed me a letter. My breathing picked up. Had my father actually responded? I reached for the letter insistently after wiping my hands on my skirt. The paper envelope was heavy in my hands, and I wanted nothing more than to rip it open. But I didn't. There was far too much to do right now.

Another round of soldiers were coming in, so I tucked the letter into my skirt pocket, underneath my apron. Piper seemed mildly disappointed that I hadn't opened it right away, but really it wasn't any of her business. I grabbed a new pair of gloves from the shelf and a mask to match it.

I nodded my head to the room over, saying, "Let's go."

Piper huffed and rolled her eyes. I ignored her and went to find my next patient. In the next few minutes the room became a lot more hectic. Men were being carried in by the dozens, and the room filled up quickly.

"There are more outside in the courtyard." Someone called over the moans and screams of pain.

"What happened?" Someone else asked.

"German bombs. Enough to take out this entire town. We'd best be working quickly before the next truck arrives."

"We work quickly no matter the occasion." I muttered to myself. "Alright Piper, we're going to have to split up to see as many patients as possible. Find all of the 'life or death' people and have them brought in, and then we will see to the rest of them."

"Affirmative!" She called, then moved to the entrance to start analyzing the men who were flowing into our makeshift emergency room. I found my first patient, a stockier man with a massive rip in his uniform around the epigastric region of his chest. There had been something lodged there, but someone had pulled it out. Whatever it was—it had caused a lot of damage.

After making sure he was still breathing, I started my work. Prodding around the wound efficiently I next slipped my hands inside of his unconscious body. There was extensive tissue damage, that much I could tell from the beginning. Then I felt the left lobe of the liver. Its rubbery exterior had been scraped and it was now swelling, leaking out bile that was supposed to go to the intestines. Thankfully it was a small scratch, and would hopefully heal itself. That is, as long as if it was cleansed of any toxins so it wouldn't get infected. I took out my hands and hastily wiped them on my apron, leaving a smear of crimson blood.

I took a clamp to keep the wound open, then I engaged in the most non-doctor procedure ever. I scooped the bile out with my hands, getting as much as I could out before finishing with a spare cloth. It was disgusting to think about, really, getting the gloopy stuff out and then sewing up what I could. I left a shorthand note of what I had done, then safety pined it to his uniform. Before I knew it, he was carried off and another man was placed upon my table.

I changed out my gloves for new ones and began my process of examination once again. Gash on the neck and shrapnel damage to the leg, some deep, but mostly superficial. The next patient had laceration marks on his back, which were bleeding profusely. And the next was wounded in the right lumbar region of his abdomen.

This was how the rest of the day went on. Soldiers were piling in everywhere, and eventually someone woke up the night shift to help. By the time I was dressing for bed, I had seen so many injured that I had lost count, too many of them dying because I couldn't save them.

I couldn't save them.

I knew that. Not all people can be saved in the end. Sometimes it was too late.

A certain feeling came over me, one that I had felt only a few times in my life. It always gave me the perspective that I was so, so small in this mortal world. So insignificant. My head was pounding from exhaustion and I felt slightly sick to my stomach. Despite this, I took out the letter I had placed on my bed earlier. My blurry eyesight could barely make out the handwriting, which was unlike the script of my father, though I didn't question it. I scooted closer to the candlestick on Piper and I's shared table.

Then I read who it was from.

 _Captain Perseus Jackson_

 _HMS Dreadnought_

 _Royal Navy_

Chills ran down my arms, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. How did he know where to write to me? And more importantly—Why?

Carefully, I peeled back the sealed paper of the envelope. Tucked neatly inside was a collection of papers, all tied together with a string. I took them out, heart racing, and hardly believing my eyes. _He remembered me!_ The girlish part of me screamed on the inside. I untied the string and started leafing through the pages, checking the dates of each. They were in chronological order; each letter being written for the days it had been since I had seen him last. There were five in total.

 _Dear Annabeth,_

 _Am I still allowed to call you that? Annabeth. I've never heard of a name like yours._

A smile befell my lips.

 _I cannot seem to keep you off of my mind. You continuously occupy my thoughts—I know that sounds strange and a bit forward, but nevertheless, it remains true. I have met many women in my life—_

I rose my eyebrows.

 _—_ _many of whom were young, beautiful, and charming. None of them compare to you._

 _I feel my face getting redder as I write this, and my lieutenants are starting to notice. They make jokes about me sometimes, but it is all good fun. Aboard this ship, there is else to do to keep the environment a happy one. I write to you from the bridge of my ship. I can see as far as the eye can look from up here, it seems. I came to my position of captain by chance, and because I am young, I am looked down upon by the other captains of the navy._

 _You see, it was through many sudden changes in events that I befell this position, the first being that the soldiers who were supposed to become captain went through unexpected sickness or even death while we were still at sea. Somehow, the leadership fell to me._

 _I hope you weren't too disappointed in receiving this. (If you are, please don't read any of my future letters, as I will probably write many more.)_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Percy Jackson_

I took a deep breath in efforts to steady my erratic heartbeat. I neatly folded the letter up, then moved onto the next. My fingers traced over the words he had written. What made me so excited? I didn't know nor did I care. I simply wanted to read further. And I did.

 _Dear Annabeth,_

 _I will not pretend that I have not imagined seeing you again. Would you like to see me again someday, after the war ends? I find it to be a curious thing, this war. We have been fighting for so many months now that some days I cannot remember why we even began._

 _Are you happy with your position in the wartime? I don't imagine being a doctor is very fun, especially with the injuries that occur within the trenches. Perhaps I shouldn't speak of the war. After all, there are far better topics. And I have so many questions. Do you want to know why I have seemed to remember you so wonderfully? I have never met anyone like you. Never has there been someone so willing to help others and still somehow keep their head about them to put others in their place. To tell the truth, I need that sometimes._

 _The weather is very stormy today, which makes it harder to spot lurking German U-Boats in the water. I think the world was better without the lot of that new technology. People may be able to go deeper into the ocean, but they shouldn't be doing it with the sole purpose of hurting other people. There is so much to explore down there, just out of humanity's grasp. If I could breath underwater, I would be able to explore the only undiscovered place left on earth. My dreams will never come true though, because breathing underwater is ridiculous. Its still nice to think about though._

 _Do you have any dreams? I hope they'll come true someday._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Percy Jackson_

I opened the next.

 _Dearest Annabeth,_

My breath faltered, yet again.

 _If you are reading this, then you haven't thrown away my letters—at least, not yet. I know that it has only been mere weeks since we've seen each other, and I miss you relentlessly. My ship, the Dreadnought, is in a constant state of moving. We have been patrolling around Scotland, and though there has been little conflict, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. I hope your environment is somehow better, though I doubt a hospital could be._

 _I trust your friends are all in good health? Miss Piper was the one to tell me where I could write to you. The truth is that I felt a connection to you when we met, and I don't want this war to be the reason we must move on and forget any chance for a good life after it is over. Do you feel the same?_

 _Yours truly,_

 _Percy Jackson_

The next few letters were among the same tone and context. That night, after I had blown out the candle on the table and had crawled underneath my bedcovers, I held the letters close to my heart. In no longer than three seconds, I had fallen into a contented, restful sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Weeks passed before I received another letter from Percy. The morning after I had read his first letters I had woken early and wrote back. It went like this:

 _Dear Percy,_

 _I haven't thrown away your letters._

 _In fact, they seem to be the only constant in my life besides the endless death that lives in this hospital. Every day I seem to meet more and more soldiers in the war effort, and every single one of them are as lost in their minds as can hardly be imagined. I have received articles from other doctors noticing the same things as I have, and it is beginning to gain a name for itself. "Combat Stress". Will this war ever end? I knew when I came here it would be a place of enduring residence throughout the war, but it is becoming harder and harder to stand it. All I can hope is that some form of truce can be formed before the populations on both sides are decimated forever._

 _In your earlier letters, you asked me if I had any dreams for after the war. I have to admit that I do not. By coming to this position, I have left behind my family, including my father, who has most probably disowned me by now. It is my own fault, however. I refused to come home to help with his wife and their children. I stick to my opinion that I can be of better help here at the war front. I hope you do not think too lowly of me for abandoning them, but my aspirations as a doctor can not be refuted._

 _I hope all fares well on the seas. I don't imagine that being on a ship for so long can be all that enjoyable. After all, you are cut off from the rest of the world._

 _My friends are all in good health. I hope your companions are as well._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Annabeth Chase_

 _P.S. In the event of this war ending, I would most certainly like to see you again._

After I had sent that letter, I hadn't written another. There was far too much to do in the hospital to be sitting down every night to write. I was exhausted most of the time, anyway. Hundreds of wounded soldiers came through the hospital doors, and unfortunately, the graveyard grew bigger every day. It was the middle of March by now.

I was finishing up a surgery when a boy from the village came rushing into the building. Causing a ruckus in the main room. I finished the stitches by the end of my shift, and decided to see what the commotion was. When I got out, I saw a large group of people gathered around a newspaper. Someone yelled for everyone to be quiet so it could be read aloud. I was standing in the doorway when I heard, "His Majesty's Ship, the _Dreadnought_ , rams German U-Boat, successfully sinking the submarine…"

My breath caught in my throat. That was Percy's ship. I edged closer to the group to hear better of what had occurred.

"On the 18th of March, 1915, the U-29 submarine, skippered by Otto Weddigen of German, shot a torpedo at the HMS _Neptune,_ thus engaging the _Dreadnought_ to chase the U-boat a short distance until it surfaced to see its damage. Under the instructions of Captain Perseus Jackson, the battleship rammed the submarine, effectively tearing it in two. In its actions, the _Dreadnought_ almost hits fellow battleship HMS _Temeraire,_ who was also preparing to ram…"

My breath caught in my throat. News always got to us late, so it was no wonder we hadn't heard of it yet. It was March 22nd now. I immediately wondered if everyone was okay. Especially _him_. _He_ seemed to occupy a majority of my thoughts these days. Our correspondence was very slow. Letters took so long to be sent and delivered.

"Are you thinking about you-know-who again?" Piper asked, appearing next to me.

I blushed, wishing she wouldn't mention Percy to me again. Every time she did, it triggered a defensive mood in me. I knew she didn't mean anything by it, she was just teasing.

Piper laughed at my awkward discomfort, then asked, "Do you mind helping out on one more surgery? Will says that he needed some help with this one."

I nodded without thought. If Will required assistance, I would do my best to assist. "What's the problem?"

Piper led me back to the supply cabinet, where we got gloves and masks to cover our mouths. She began, "It was a gunshot to the face. He's going to need irrigation, debridement, drainage, and partial closure."

I sighed. I could understand why Will wanted help. The poor soldier was going to have a long recovery time. "Is he stable and asleep?"

"Yes." Will came up behind us. This was only the beginning of his shift throughout the night.

"Let's get to it then." I replied with a slight smile.

We were a perfect team. Piper took care of the soldier's minimal injuries while I helped Will with the soldier's face. I hated wounds like this. There was so much damage that I could hardly tell if the victim was alive. We began with irrigation of the wound, hydrating the damaged area with water as well as cleaning out what we could. The gunshot had destroyed the tissue so badly that we could see the man's tongue and teeth through his cheek. Every other minute Will and I had trade places so the other could wipe their hands on their apron, as fluids became very slippery.

Will and I traded places and glanced at my hands. They were pretty watery, and characterized by flecks of damaged skin tissue stuck to the rubber gloves. There was also blood, but that was normal. I prepared the instruments for debridement, which would involve dissecting the tissue of the soldier's face and removing anything that could be infected or dead. This step was by far the messiest, as there would be a healthier flow of blood from the underlying tissue.

"You ready?" I asked Will. He nodded complacently. The towel we were using to soak up the drainage was sopping wet with a mixture of water, blood, and darkened skin tissue. Without a word, Piper had already moved to us, replaced the towel with a new one, and disposed of the rag.

I took up Will's position, and held a smaller rag to soak up the smaller spots of fluids. Will was next handed forceps and a scalpel so he could start clearing away the worst parts of the wound. Every now and then he would trade out tools while I ran a little water over the area to clean it out a little. After Will decided he had done all he could, we thoroughly washed out the wound, and drained all we could.

"He's not going to be able to open his mouth for a while if we do stitches for the skin grafting." I noticed.

Will nodded. "I thought about that. What do you think about a partial closure? That way he could eat through a tube, at lease until the stitched start mending the skin back together."

I rose my eyebrows, considering it. "That could work. Good idea."

Piper spoke, "I'll go find some rubber tubing. How long does it need to be?"

"About 25 centimeters, would you think?" I looked to Will. I wanted desperately to rub my eyes. I was getting tired from the day, not to mention I was hungry.

Will nodded, and Piper went off to go find the supplies.

"Where are we getting the skin graft from?" I asked. Will shrugged, saying, "I don't know yet, Piper will have a better comprehensive of where the body is the least damaged, so we should ask her when she gets back."

I wiped my hands on my dirty apron, and began to clean the station to the best of my ability. Will stood where he was, still holding a cloth to the wound so it wouldn't be messy when we got to the stitches part of the operation.

"Annabeth, are you okay?" Will asked.

I sighed. "I'm just tired."

"Are you sure?" He pushed. "You seem like something is wearing you down more than usual."

I faltered in my movements. Was it that obvious that I was anxious? I nodded slowly to Will. "I'm just anxious."

"Care to tell?"

I pursed my lips. Will wasn't going to let this go. "I'm worried about my father. I haven't heard from him in months. The last letter I received told me that his new wife was expecting twins. He needed my help to support their family. I—I told him no."

Will was about to speak when I continued. "I don't regret my decision to stay here. I know the work we do here is important. But I also wish it didn't have to destroy the already fragile relationship I have with my father. I'm not sure he would ever speak to me again."

"I'm sorry—" Will was about to say something more when Piper came back with the materials we needed. And, like nothing had happened, we moved on with the surgery.

"Sorry I took so long. One of the other nurses wanted to know why I needed it." She lined up the tubing, tape, and a needle and thread. "For the grafting, I think you should use the outside of the thigh. The skin seems pretty healthy there, which should speed up his healing process."

We were silent for the remainder of the surgery. I removed the amount of skin needed and placed it over the wound area. It covered the lower half. From then on, Will took over with stitches, and I helped Piper with wrapping bandages around the leg.

"Do you need any other help, or are Piper and I free to go eat and get some sleep?" I asked, yawning.

"I've got it." Will replied. Piper smiled at him and we left the room.

I pulled off my gloves and mask, tossing them in the bin. I turned to Piper after washing my hands. "Do you want to wash up before or after getting dinner?"

"Before. It's been a long day. I'm glad tomorrow we just have to take care of the upper levels."

"Me too." I responded as we walked to our rooms to collect clothes to change into for dinner. Doctor Pollux (night staff) had the idea for a different kind of schedule. Doctors and their assisting nurses would have two shifts of surgery, and then a day of overseeing the upstairs rooms. It gave things a better flow. The rest of the nurses simply remained with the same day and night schedules. This plan certainly relieved a lot of the doctors and their nurses.

Because so much water was used for the betterment of the soldiers, there wasn't a lot left over for the washing. Piper and I took turns washing in a small bathtub behind a curtain in a tiled room that smelled like lime. I didn't care about the stench, as long as it did its job of keeping the rats away.

Rats were one of the worst parts of trench warfare. As the war had progressed, and the soldiers spent more time out there in the mud, the rats multiplied by the millions. Every single soldier that came to us had some sort of attack from the rats. Most of the injuries came on their feet, and I assumed it was very painful just from examining the wounds.

I let Piper go first in the wash, and I handed the dry clothes around the curtain to her. The first thing she did was put on her stockings and shoes. After a few minutes of dressing, Piper appeared and took my place.

In the bath, I scrubbed my skin raw. There were too many problems right now. I just had to take things day by day. I hoped Percy would write to me soon. Had he forgotten the address because of what had happened to his ship? Would it be too forward if I wrote him another letter? I held my breath as I dunked my head under the cold water, then let the air come out through my nose.

That night, after the candles had been blown out and I had crawled under the blankets, I continued to think about my family issues. I made a promise to myself: Starting tomorrow, I would try to fix the problems I had with my father.


	12. Chapter 12

I was changing a corporal's bandages when I heard yelling from the staircase. I shot the man a smile, who gazed back at me wearily, and then proceeded to the hallway to see what was going on.

I rammed directly into Francis Laurent, the custodian of the hospital I had met upon my arrival here. "What's the matter?"

"They need a doctor!" He expressed his actions tone by waving his arms madly.

I started to push past him as he continued. Laurent lamented, "On the front. There's been a terrible accident!"

The front? That meant—no. That meant going down to the trenches. I felt my stomach lower. I answered him timidly, "Can no one else go?"

"Everyone is in the middle of surgeries! Please! There isn't time." Laurent pushed the small of my back to urge me down the stairs. I moved without thinking, doing what Laurent so desperately wanted me to do. I descended to the main level and packed a medical bag. It had a red cross emblazoned on the sides.

I secured my hat tightly on my head. I was doing this. I was going directly into the midst of the war. "What was the emergency?"

"An artillery cannon collapsed on four men." Laurent told me as he practically forced me from the hospital and into an automobile. He climbed in after me and kept talking. "They cannot move it easily, which is the reason I brought this."

Laurent held up a saw, which was normally used in procedures to cut off—oh. I was going to cut the bodies free, all the while, being shot at by the Germans, who all of a sudden felt a lot closer. I took a large, deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. What if I died? Oh, Lord. What would they tell my father? What would they tell _Percy?_ Would he even find out? After all, I was insignificant in the scheme of things, really.

 _No._

 _I have to stop thinking like this._

 _I will be fine._

"Okay." I muttered as we sped across the land toward the layers of trenches in the distance.

Piper's p.o.v.

Where did Annabeth go? I had left for just a moment to fetch more water for the injured. Now she was no where to be found. I turned to a fellow nurse—Lacy, I think her name was. "Do you know where Dr. Chase is?"

Lacy met my stare with worried eyes. "She was called out of the hospital a few minutes ago."

"But where did she go?" I asked insistently.

"You're not going to like it."

"I didn't ask if I would like it. Now, where is she?" I was now on edge, and the soldiers around me were taking notice.

"They needed a doctor at the front lines." Lacy replied, fearful for my reaction. Chills ran up and down my spine. How could she have agreed to go there? What would happen to her?

"Start praying." I ordered Lacy, who only nodded vigorously in reply. And as much as I wanted to wait at the hospital door waiting for Annabeth to come back— _she would come back_ —I knew that my work couldn't stop. I went around checking wounds helping out, all the while murmuring the words to a song my mother used to sing.

Annabeth's p.o.v.

I felt the stares of many men as I tromped my way through the muddy trenches. My eyes were alight with the visuals before me. I did exactly as I was told. I kept my head low and my back arched. It was not an easy position to sustain. I carried my bag while another man carried my saw. Everywhere I went, everyone got out of my way. This was for two reasons:

1\. I was a woman. These men probably hadn't seen one in a long time.

2\. I was wearing my doctor's uniform. It symbolized that I was here to help.

It was lucky, you could say, that today was the day I chose to wear pants. I had bought them in the small town from one of the old ladies who had refused to evacuate the town, and instead stayed to help where they could. The skirt that I normally wore would not have done well here. Here. Where it is easy to trip over the dirt swells and dead bodies. I swallowed the smell without making a face.

When we reached the site of the damage, someone had to call for everyone to get out of the way. There was a small, stressed chuckle that spread throughout the men. I died out when I dropped to my knees by the first man and the soldier behind me handed me the saw. From then on, they were all silent as they watched what I was going to do. As if it were a show.

"Hello there, soldier," I whispered to the first victim under my breath. His eyes flickered open as checked for his pulse. It was steady enough. "This is going to hurt really, really bad. Feel free to cry out. That's normal. You will be just fine."

He nodded with wide eyes, which were quickly filling with tears. Pins pricked my eyes too as I cut away the pants. I would be making a cut right above the knee. He would never walk again. But he would live.

I glanced to the men around me. They were watching astutely. "You may need to hold him down."

Two of them nodded, then got down and joined me on their knees. Here we go.

"Close your eyes, soldier." I ordered, and he complied immediately.

I zoned out after I started hacking at his legs. There was dark blood everywhere. On my arms and on my face. I didn't even flinch. I had a job to do. No one else would do it. As soon as the first was free, I bandaged his newly formed stumps, and he was lifted onto a stretcher. He would be transported to the Boisleux-au-Mont hospital in no time.

Then it was onto the next.

I quickly wiped the sword off with a rag and poured a bottle of antiseptic over it. The process started over. Three more. Now two. Just one more.

When I finished, one soldier helped me to my feet, which were cold and numb. I stumbled slightly before regaining my balance. I turned to the rest of the men looking at me. Well, most were looking at me. The others were still viewing the ends of the men's legs, which stuck out from underneath the artillery cannon.

"Is there anything I can do for you boys?" I asked tiredly. A few nodded. By now the sounds of firing rifles and yelling had blurred into the background. I shut it out as I began to help who I could.

I wrapped gauze around one man's head, stopping the bleeding from a barbed wire laceration to his ear. I stitched up multiple cuts which had been deemed not serious enough to send to the hospital. By noon, I realized that if I were to stay here helping, I would need more supplies. I moved to the furthest layer of trenches, and sent for more materials.

Then it started raining. The thunder made it hard to hear anything, and that was acceptable. As I waited for more tools, I tried to make casual conversation with those around me. A couple were playing cards. Some were sleeping. I knew that the outermost trenches were where soldiers would get a break for a week before rotating back into the fighting trenches, closer to No-Man's-Land.

"What's your name?" One asked me. He looked seventeen or eighteen maybe.

"I am Doctor Annabeth Chase." I said, giving him a wry smile. He gave one back.

"Are you American?" He asked and I nodded. "Never thought I would meet an American girl in the war."

"It seems this war has not been what it was expected to be." I commented. The soldier nodded and swallowed.

"Some days, I can't remember what we're even fighting for anymore."

I lowered my eyes.

"Why on earth would anyone want to come here?" He asked. I didn't reply, and he kept talking. He probably needed someone to talk to. "I used to love the idea of war. My father always spoke of it with fond memories. I didn't think it would be like this. We're just animals— waiting to be slaughtered."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Mark."

"Mark," I began, staring up at the darkened sky, where rain was coming down in sheets. "I want you to promise me that you will find something to focus all of your hope on. Think of something—anything that brings you joy—and anytime you feel yourself slipping away, think of it."

"Does that really work?" He smiled skeptically.

"I have no idea." I responded. We both grinned.

A tall man, hunched over greatly, approached me with a large carpet bag in his arms. I got up to meet him. When he moved aside, I saw Piper. Her normal kaleidoscope eyes had darkened to a deep green.

"What are you doing here?" I asked immediately.

"I couldn't very well let you tackle this on your own." She replied, not sorry. "You should be grateful. I woke up a few people to work our shift for us."

I paused, then gave her a brilliant smile. "You're amazing, you know that?"

She blushed, and we got to work. The excessive amount of carbolic lotion we used was crazy, as it could help protect wounds from becoming infected. Each man we treated left after receiving a smile from each of us. For the first time in a while, I felt I was truly glad to be where I was, making such a difference in these men's lives.

That night, after I had thoroughly washed my face and left my dirty uniform over a chair in a corner, I forced myself to write a letter to my father. I had to try, right?

 _Dear Father,_

 _I know not if you will read this letter, but if you have made it this far, I urge you to keep reading. I am sorry for not complying to your wishes of my return home, but the truth is, it has not been "home" for a long time. I do not feel a part of your new family, though I do wish you all health and wellness._

 _My work here is indispensable to the war effort. I know America has made the decision to remain neutral, but I believe I am doing my duty to humanity. If I can make a difference, I will do all that I can. I will not lie and say the job is easy. Today I had to go down into the trenches, where the soldiers fight, and amputate the limbs of four men. It is terrifying there. And what scares me more than the thought of dying is how fast I became accustomed to the noise all around me._

 _I miss your guidance. It would be welcomed greatly at any time._

 _I have something to ask of you, as well. Months ago, I went to London and spoke at a convention for doctors. You no doubt heard of the first aerial attacks on Great Britain, which occurred while I was there. But that is not the point. I met someone. He is a naval captain, and we have been corresponding through letters. After the war is over, I hope you will agree to meet him. That is, if you ever reply to me. I will not give up, though. That has never been a part of who I am. You have always said I was too stubborn for my own good. I should have known I got that trait from you._

 _Please, find it in your heart to forgive my actions so that we may reconcile someday in the future, however far off it may be. I love you._

 _Your daughter,_

 _Annabeth._

I folded the letter and left it on the table. I would send it out to be mailed tomorrow. Even after all I had seen and heard today, my thoughts calmed once I thought of _him_.

 _Captain Perseus Jackson_.


	13. Chapter 13

_Dearest Annabeth,_

 _I meant to write you so much earlier than now, but life has become so much more complicated since—well, I think you know what happened. The news was broadcasted across the world, but if you haven't heard, I crashed my ship into a submarine. Yeah, I know. It was very stupid of me. I really don't know why I did it, only that in that moment I knew the sub had to go down._

 _I am now facing harsh disciplinary actions. I probably should have expected that. I am on leave for two weeks. I am staying with my mother in London. In my time away, she has made the close acquaintance of one of my old school teachers. I must admit I am wary of him. I just don't want my mother to get hurt. It's hard to see my mother moving on without me. You're pretty much the only constant in my life right now._

 _How is your hospital? Is the fighting getting much worse? I cannot imagine what it is like in the trenches, and I hope to God that I never have to see it. I cannot wait until this war is over so that I may see you again! Where do you want to go to meet? London would probably be the easiest, but who knows if London will even be around. The air raids have destroyed so much of the city. Children are being evacuated to save future generations from the carnage and death of this age. However, this is the war to end all wars, and they will never have to face such events ever again. That is the one good thing that will come from this war when we win it._

 _I don't know if you have access to a camera, or if a photographer has ever come through Boisleux-au-Mont, but I would like to have your picture. Is it too early of me to ask? I hope you know how nervous writing about this makes me feel. I don't want to lose our correspondence or our friendship because of the mistakes I've made._

 _In the envelope you will also find a locket. I bought it a few days ago to accompany my photograph in side it. You don't have to wear it, but I thought you might like it._

 _Yours,_

 _Percy._

Yours. My breath caught in my throat when I read that. I smiled shakily and put the letter on my desk and looked at the locket in my other hand. It was small, silver, and had a simple yet beautiful design. I unlatched the "door" and looked at the image. It was him! This was the first time I'd seen him since January, during the first air raids over England. Percy was smiling as if someone had just told him a joke. It made me smile too.

We were nearing the end of April. It was a shame that mail took so long to arrive. Nevertheless, I would write back as soon as I could get of picture of me made. I was still staring at Percy's photo when Piper came up behind me.

"What's that—?" She gasped quietly. "That's adorable!"

I quickly shut the locket and put on the necklace, tucking it underneath my collar. "Do you have any idea where I could get my picture taken?"

"What a good idea!" Piper exclaimed. "I could send mine to Jason!"

"We'll have to look into it." I looked at my timepiece. "But not now. Shift starts in fifteen, and we need to have breakfast still."

The day progressed as normal. Piper and I were on surgery day, working in the operating room. It was a grueling job. I couldn't even count how many stitches I had sewn into infected flesh. What was worse was when the news came in. Newspapers were one of the few forms of entertainment at the hospital. The new word today, however, was a lot worse than anything in a while. At lunch Piper and I finally got our hands on it. It read:

 **German Gas Attack Kills Hundreds in Minutes**

I choked on my cup of water and swallowed way too quickly. It was as Will had said earlier about his father. Chemical warfare was finally here. Before long, we would be trying to treat victims that could never be healed. I pushed away from the lunch table and decided to get back to work. I spent my entire day around dying men. I didn't want to read about it too.

Piper joined me quietly. She got the diagnostics report for our next patient. "Two gunshot wounds to the abdomen—How is this guy still alive?"

I shook my head, because I didn't know, and we began the surgery. The first bullet was lodged in between two ribs, shattering both and just barely missing the liver. The other bullet entered the left lumbar region and went straight through the colon.

"I'm going to need some clamps and the forceps." I told Piper, and she wasted no time in getting them to me. I used the clamps to hold back the skin and layers of tissue. There was a lot of blood gushing out from the wound by the ribs, so I had Piper sopping it up with any spare towels she could get her hands on. I had another nurse putting pressure on the second wound.

I took out the bullet in pieces. It had come apart when it had entered the body, making it all the worse when you looked at the overall damage. I did my best to repair the soldier's ribs, but there was little I could do to fix such things. Healing would only occur if he didn't move the bone fragments out of place when he woke up. I moved to the second bullet wound as I instructed Piper, "Stich him up."

The second wound wasn't bleeding as much, but it was pretty disgusting to work on. I hated operating on any of the intestines, but the colon was the worst because all of the nutrients from the stomach had been absorbed, leaving the main components of feces to be expelled from the body. I was glad I had on gloves and a mask. The smell alone made the other nurse gag. I rolled my eyes and got to work, repairing the damage. There were a lot of tears in his surrounding tissue as well, so I was busy suturing for the greater part of an hour. All the work I did wouldn't be worth anything if he bled out on the inside.

When we were finished the soldier was taken upstairs with the orders that he wasn't to move. My next patient moved to the table, this one in need of an amputation. I hated these cases. Perhaps it was simply because of the screaming. We were nearing the end of the month, which meant that supplies were running out. I couldn't give him anything for the pain. All I could give him was a rag to bite on as I got my saw.

Perhaps it was best that my patient passed out as soon as he saw my tools. I made a tourniquet in the middle of the man's calf and proceeded to start my work. This wasn't even the worst case I had seen, but it looked pretty bad. Most of the soldiers that came from the trenches all had the same case of foot deterioration. I didn't know what the exact cause of it but it probably had something to do with the living standards in the trenches. I made a mental note to talk to Will about it. Hopefully I would see him for a few minutes in the evening.

I went through patient after patient and was growing weary after dealing with the brunt of the day. Piper and I basically collapsed when we completed our last surgery. I knew I would have to go through at least one more before the day was over. The only way I could have time to talk to Will was over another patient.

"Go on and wash up for the night." I told Piper with a fatigued smile. "I need to speak with Will."

I could tell that she didn't want to leave me by myself, but also didn't want to waste any time she could be sleeping. I reaffirmed, "It's fine, Piper. I don't think it will take all that long."

"Well, alright." Piper said after a moment. She collected both of our dinner dishes and took them to the kitchen. I assumed she must have gone to the sleeping quarters when she had finished.

I forced myself to my feet and went looking for Will. I found him pulling on some gloves. He rifled through some boxes, looking for the face masks, but there weren't any.

"Looks like we've run out of yet another thing." Will said when he saw me standing there.

I nodded, grabbing a pair of gloves too. "I wanted to talk to you about the soldier's feet. I've been noticing—"

"—That practically every one of them is in a stage of decomposition?" Will finished my sentence. "I got that too."

"Have any idea what could be causing it?" I asked as we moved into the surgery room. It was dim and dark in there, and lit candles peppered the tables and sconces in the walls. I didn't know how the night shift handled it. They could hardly see what they were doing. Electricity wasn't an option here. There were multiple reasons why. Firstly, getting electricity to a small town in the French countryside wasn't easy. Secondly, we didn't want to draw any attention to ourselves. If the Germans knew we were here, I wasn't sure they wouldn't want to drop a bomb on a hospital full of wounded enemy soldiers.

The truth was, we didn't know much about what the enemy would and wouldn't do. Newspapers came once or twice a week, and only if something big had happened.

"In all of the cases I've seen," Will began to look at an unconscious patient. "There is a common share of blisters, enlarged and blackened tissue—"

"Dr. Solace?" A nurse asked. She smiled at him widely, not that he noticed.

"Overview." Will stated.

The nurse had obviously gone through this routine before and launched into it. "Wounded shoulder. Bullet went straight through it. Dr. Solace—"

"Sounds easy enough; Dr. Chase will assist." Will was already looking closer at the wound. The nurse pursed her lips and moved to another table. I rolled my eyes at how oblivious Will was.

"Can you be more obvious?" I asked.

Will's head shot up to meet my eyes. "How do you mean?"

I smiled briefly as I handed him some forceps to begin fixing up the bone fragments lodged in his tissues. "She was trying to get your attention and you completely ignored her."

"What am I supposed to do, Annabeth?" Will turned his attention back to the patient, who was still asleep. "I can't pretend to like her."

"Just don't be rude." I blotted at the blood oozing from the open tissue. "Manners can hide practically anything."

"We can agree on that." Will said as he set down his tools. "Bones are back in place. Just need to suture the rest of it."

"Back to the topic of feet." I went down to examine the soldier's after handing the proper materials to Will. I unlaced the man's boots, taking them off, and peeling away the knit socks. Similar to others I had seen, this man had dark black and purplish toes. "I think it has to do with the water, but there are also bites here."

"Rats?" Will stated.

"Rats." I confirmed, continuing to look at the extremities. "We should start charting this."

"I don't know about you, but I don't have any extra time to write a chart at the end of the day." Will mumbled.

I yawned impolitely, covering my mouth. "Agreed."

I got to my feet and took off my gloves, throwing them in the bin. "Goodnight, Dr, Solace."

"Good morning, Dr. Chase."

I grinned, walking away. I wiped my face and hands with a wet cloth. I set it aside to dry and sat down on my bed, finally noticing a letter on my pillow.

It was from my father. At long last.


	14. Chapter 14

The envelope in my hands was made of stiff parchment. It was a little thicker than a usual letter. Maybe my father had sent multiple pages? That didn't sound like him. We never had much to talk about. I ripped that seal of the envelope open nervously. What would he say?

 _Annabeth,_

 _I feel I have made an error in our past correspondence. I cannot deny that my feelings have not changed about your duty to your family, but I do feel guilty for the way my words may have constricted your life. You were always meant for greatness. I have been able to see that since you were a child. You are so like your mother._

 _I know I do not talk about her a lot, and for that I apologize. It has been too painful to think about for all of these years, but I believe it is time for you to know who she is. After all, she is a part of who you are just as I am._

 _Minerva Athene was a woman before her time. She was intelligent and calculating, just like you are. I met her in my time studying at the university, and she helped me through my most difficult classes. I did not know where her great knowledge came from. Perhaps it was a gift from God. She and I fell in love over piles of books and a study table at the university library. We were never married, but you should know that we loved each other deeply. And from that love, you were created._

 _We hardly knew a thing about each other's families. When she became pregnant, I discovered who she was. The Dean's daughter. Imagine my shock. We were not allowed to see each other after that. Minerva carried you to full term and I counted each and every one of those days. I was foolish to believe that once you were born, we would all run away together and be happy. You were left on my doorstep the morning after your birth with a letter. It told me that a teaching position in Virginia had been secured for me, so long as I took it and never saw your mother again._

 _I did what was logical. I packed our things and we moved to Virginia. You know the rest. I may have failed at creating a family for you when you were young. But life has taught me about second chances, and I hope you can find it in yourself to see that, and give me a second chance at being your father._

 _Love,_

 _Frederick Chase._

I wish I could say that my father's letter brought solace to my mind. It didn't, not exactly. Father had finally told me the mystery behind my mother and my lineage. I finally knew who she was! However, I now had so many new questions. Where was she now? Did she even remember me? Would I ever see her after this wretched war was over?

There was so much uncertainty involved. Why couldn't everything be simpler? More importantly, would this war ever end? It was mid-April, 1915. In three months, the war will have been going on for a year. And would that have gotten us? Thousands of men were dead and even more were wounded and there still wasn't an end in sight.

I checked the envelope again, to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Two photographs had been slipped in between the folds. The first was of two young people. They each wore matching smiles as they looked at each other. On the back was written:

 _Minerva and I._

It was my mother.

I ran my fingertips over her grainy face. Her features bore no worry lines or wrinkles. She was so beautiful. I could see why my father had fallen in love with her. She had beauty and brains, and wasn't afraid to show it. I looked at the other photograph. It was of my father and a few others—more recent than the previous one. There was a woman next to him sitting comfortably. A swaddled baby was in each of their arms.

 _Me, my wife, and our boys, Matthew and Robert Chase._

My father's family. I took an uneasy breath. Were they considered my family too? I blew out my candle and crawled into bed. Answers would only come at the end of the war…whenever that was.

Time passed. The snow melted making way into a short spring season, which quickly faded into summer. Before I knew it, it was July 12th—my birthday. Contrary to popular belief, we doctors and nurses did get some time off…albeit only a little. Somehow Will and Piper had found out my birthdate, and suggested we all take a night off. Well, Will took his morning off.

Boisleux-au-Mont didn't have a wide variety of "entertainment". There were a few stray houses, one general store, and a small pub that served terrible alcohol every other Friday. How they stocked anything was beyond me. However, that very pub was where we were headed.

I stepped carefully over patches of mud, trying not to ruin my shoes. I hadn't wanted to wear them because they were my nicest pair, but Piper had somehow convinced me. She said a night of dancing in good shoes would be fun. For reasons unknown to me, I felt compelled to believe her and do as she said. She was very convincing.

The music inside the pub floated out through the open windows, beckoning us inside. Will smiled as he held the door open, his nose scrunching up at the stale scent of liquor. I grinned back. The revelry inside was already in full swing.

"Happy birthday, Annabeth!" Piper put one arm around me as we clinked our drinks together.

"What birthday is this?" Will asked.

I swallowed slowly and coughed at the taste, "My nineteenth."

Will sipped his drink and cringed. "I do not think this is the best thing to be drinking. I may be sick if I consume any more of it."

Piper still hadn't tried hers yet, but our reactions didn't stop her from trying it…and spitting it out on the bar counter in front of us. I immediately started laughing, the others around us joining in. The bartender rolled his eyes and wiped down the mess, exchanging each of our glasses for water.

We danced throughout the evening, skipping about the wooden floors like we were mad. We were, perhaps, the only ones enjoying ourselves in all of France. I became weary though, and my feet began to hurt. I opted out of a dance, leaving Will and Piper by themselves. I gulped down another glass of water. It was warm in the one roomed building.

Percy came to the front of my mind. I pulled on the chain around my neck. Any spare moment I had I seemed to be looking at the locket he had sent to me. His photograph smiled up at me and I smiled back.

"Missing someone?" A voice asked in a light Italian accent. I turned to him and noticed a man leaning on the bar next to me. He was exactly my height, with messy black hair and deep dark brown eyes, which had dark circles underneath them. It was as if he had not slept in a very long time. He wore an all-black uniform with two silver stars on the mandarin collar. A matching black belt was buckled around his torso and a satchel was slung over his chest. A hat was placed carelessly on the bar top. It bore a Captain's credentials.

I rose my eyebrows at his question and snapped the locket shut.

The man continued, " _Il tuo amante_? Your…lover?"

I felt my face grow warmer. My blush made my lips twitch upward slightly. Percy and I, well, I didn't truly know what to classify us as. Were we lovers?

"I'm afraid it may be a bit more complicated than that." I replied.

"It always is, isn't it?" The man answered. His face remained stoic. It didn't look as though he smiled all that often.

"If you don't mind me asking," I began. "Where in Italy are you from?"

He looked down at the counter before replying sadly, "Venice."

"Oh?"

"Do not mistake my tone for gloomy memories. Venice…It is not so happy a place now." The man swallowed his alcohol, not even noticing the taste.

"Why would that be?" I wondered aloud.

"I am not surprised you have not heard." He took a deep breath. "It was bombed—two weeks previous—by Austrians." *****

I felt the air run out of me as the man finished off his glass of liquor and continued, "They meant to hit a railway station. They hit a church instead. _Maledetti bastardi_."

I didn't know what to say to him, but I still wanted more information. "Why would the Austrians do that?"

"A display of power. Politics. Italy has wanted to leave its alliance with the German Keiser for months." The man sighed and stood up straight, not swaying one bit. He obviously knew how to hold his alcohol. He turned directly toward me, "Do you happen to know any doctors at the clearing station? I am looking for someone."

"Considering I am one of them, yes, I know them all." I replied.

The man didn't react. I had expected him to, but his face remained unchanged.

"I am looking for Doctor William Solace." He said. My eyes widened in response.

"If I am to tell you anything more, I must ask who you are."

"Ah, introductions." He nodded. "Forgive me, I forgot. I am First Captain Nicolaus di Angelou of the Italian infantry."

That name. It sounded familiar. I struggled to place it as I introduced myself. "Doctor Annabeth Chase. I am from the United States of America."

 _Nicolaus di Angelou_. I knew that name!

The letter! This was Will's gentleman friend. I grinned, suddenly excited for the reunion to come. Perhaps though, it should be somewhere more…private?

"I know Will." I said. "He is here tonight. Would you like me to find him? I could bring him outside to meet you."

Nicolaus appreciated my words and agreed with a vigorous nod of his head. He placed his hat on his head, already backing away. "I will meet you there."

I nodded back to him and turned to pry Will and Piper away from all of the dancing. As I weaved my way through the couples, I wondered over how I would phrase it to Will.

I cleared my throat behind them so that they would notice me. Piper grinned. She looked like she was getting tired from all the excitement. Will seemed to be slowing down as well.

"I met a friend of yours, Will." I said without thinking.

"I don't have many friends, Annabeth, you know that." Will pointed out. "Who is it?"

I smirked, already pulling on his arm, leading him to the door. Piper trailed behind us. Will began to protest, "Are you sure they meant me? It is unlikely anyone I know would be here. We are in the middle of France for heaven's sake—"

"Just wait a moment!" I insisted. "It's a surprise!"

"I don't like surprises! And isn't it your birthday? Why am I being surprised?" Will objected. I pushed him through the doorway before he could say anything else.

The two men stood before each other, not saying a word. The dim lights of the pub cast a golden glow over their faces as they stared, gawking at each other in the near-darkness. Suddenly a blinding smile came over Nicolaus's face as Will pulled him into a tight hug. Will's eyes were squeezed shut, one of his hand buried in his partner's hair.

"Is this Captain di Angelou?" Piper asked me.

I could only nod in reply. My voice had left me and I could feel tears building up in my eyes. In the middle of this terrible war, at least one thing had gone right. So why did I still feel like something was missing? Maybe it wasn't something…maybe it was a _someone._

 *****Author's Note*****

 **The Austrian bombing of Venice did not occur until November 1915. I moved the event up for the purpose of plotline! Thank you for reading!**


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